


Settling for Contrasts

by Bexinthecity247



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: Completed, F/M, Jealousy, Smut, affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 00:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247
Summary: “I came back Louisa, for you,” Hugh clasped her hand. She chewed her lip. She had loved him once, couldn’t she love him again? “I don’t want to take you off the island, I understand now that it was stupid to think that would work. But I’ve spent many lonely nights in England thinking about you.”Unfortunately for Louisa, falling in love again for convenience is too hard, when you're in love with someone else.





	1. "I came back, for you"

“I came back Louisa, for you,” Hugh clasped her hand. She chewed her lip. She had loved him once, couldn’t she love him again? “I don’t want to take you off the island, I understand now that it was stupid to think that would work. But I’ve spent many lonely nights in England thinking about you.” 

Louisa was surprised to see his eyes had started watering.

“You’ve been gone almost a year, Hugh, so much has changed,” She started to say, shaking her head. Oh how times HAD changed. She suddenly wondered what her life would be have been if she’d gone with him last year. She would have saved herself all the pain at least. That was certain.

“The way I feel about you hasn’t changed,” He said and she looked at his face. He looked different now; more mature but also battle worn. Why had she turned him down again? Her mind floated away when he took her hand. Perhaps they could have some semblance of happy after all. Perhaps it would stop the hollow aching in her chest that threatened to consume her daily.

“Louisa,” he said, kissing her hand and she snapped back to the present. It didn’t make her feel like it did when HE said her name, didn’t make her fall in love all over again like when HE kissed her hand even as he was breaking her heart. She sighed as reality started setting back in. She needed him to leave before she started crying because she could feel the tears pricking at her eyes.

“Hugh, I -” she started. Her walls were crumbling and she couldn’t breathe.

“Look, I’m back at my old house, just come and see me for dinner tonight, please. And if you don’t want to pursue it, then at least you’ll have a good time.” He smiled that pearly grin then turned serious again, “please.” 

She found herself agreeing before she could even process the thought. It would be nice to not mope around the house, even if it was for only one night.

“Okay,” she said and his face lit up in the way she used to love. He kissed her hand and painfully she was reminded how superficial her past love for Hugh felt compared to her love for Spiros. It had only taken a few weeks, a month maybe (and the distraction of fully submersing herself into her children’s lives) to get over Hugh. Yet here she was, four months after Mrs Halikiopoulous had returned from Athens and she was still crying herself to sleep.

“Great, come around about 7,” he said and thankfully he got up, releasing her from his grip and replaced his hat on his head. She saw him to the door with a strained smile and retreating back into the house wondering what the bloody hell she was doing.


	2. "Hugh??!!"

“Hugh?! Really Mother?” Larry hissed at her as he followed her around the house.

“Yes, Hugh!” She replied, holding her finger to her temple. She was tired of him now.

“But why?! What about Spiros?” Larry said and Louisa fought the urge to really shout at him.

“Oh you mean the Spiros married with children? That Spiros?” She snapped and Larry pursed his lips defiantly.

“God you are so frustrating! If I ever even had a fraction of the love you two have for each other, I wouldn’t be swanning around with some … pompous prat! I Would fight for it!” Larry didn’t know why he was getting so angry.

“Fight for what? He has a family. He has a life, I’m trying to move on with mine,” she said. She was rapidly approaching an area she would feel trapped in and desperately wanted to get out.

“Remember what you said? You didn’t want a pale imitation of Father?! Well Hugh IS a pale imitation! Spiros is not! You’re choosing the one thing you didn’t want because you’re too afraid! And that… that’s unforgivable,” Larry said. He crossed his arms but he felt guilty when he saw her face. Her eyes were filled with tears and her lip quivered slightly.

“That’s not fair,” she pointed a finger at him and her voice was thick. He looked at the ground like a naughty child and she turned her back on him.

“Mother-” he started but her patience had just run dry.

“Make sure Lugaretzia makes something acceptable for dinner,” she said, pouring herself a sherry and downing it. Larry winced.

——————————————————————————————————-

She was kissing Hugh before she could reconcile it. How much had she drunk?? Hugh was taken aback by her display of brash affections but he didn’t seem to mind at all. Louisa trailed her hand up and under his shirt. She was so desperate to feel anything other than the ghost of Spiros, the pain he’d left behind.

“Louisa,” Hugh pulled away and clamped a hand over hers, stilling her fervent unbuttoning of his shirt. She looked at him (well one of him, the other wouldn’t stay still), feeling the sparks of rejection.

“Louisa - this is … wonderful but I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to just because of the wine,” He said and she knew she should stop it then. He stroked her face. Maybe she could love him again after all. She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his. That was enough for him. 

He pushed her against the door frame, hard and she hit the back of her head. She didn’t feel it for the wine rushing through her veins subdued her nervous system. He pinned her there and started pulling at her clothes, matching her speed only moments ago. His hand made its way to the bottom of her skirt, pulling up the hem. She pulled away but he didn’t notice.

“I think we’ll be more comfortable upstairs,” he said and she almost said no. But then the image of a Greek taxi driver tunneled into her brain and she found herself nodding. He took her hand and led her up to his bedroom. She pushed the shirt off of his shoulders and moved to the buckle on his trousers. Hugh buried his hands in her hair and yanked on it. He kissed her neck, her collarbone and she let out a moan that was not entirely pleasure. He pushed her to the bed. What was she doing? Trying to block out Spiros, that’s what!

He climbed onto her, his hands working on his belt then her skirt whilst his mouth worked against hers. Her hands run up his bare back.

There was nothing gentle about it. It was rough, carnal, and when it was done, and the pair lay in the dark panting, Louisa felt cold, disgusted in herself. Hugh rolled off of her onto his back and she felt sick. She rolled onto her side and he leaned in, arm snaking around her middle.

“That was incredible, I love you,” he said breathlessly. 

She screwed her eyes closed. He wasn’t Spiros and all of this was wrong. She kept her eyes closed in the hope that he’d think she was asleep and she tried not to cry when he kissed her temple.

—————————————————————————————————–

It was early but he was passing, (well, if driving 5 kilometres out of your way was considered passing), and well he missed the family. So Spiros swung his car into their driveway and took a moment to adopt as jovial an expression as he could muster, given the circumstances. 

“Good morning Durrells!” he called as he waltzed into the kitchen, arms stretched outwards. Just like old times.

“Spiros!” a chorus cried back at him. But the matriarchal chair was empty and he frowned. Something rattled free inside his chest and he tried to keep his face light. 

“Where is Mrs Durrells?” he said, trying to be nonchalant but it was painfully obvious how much he pined for her. 

“Oh she went to Hugh’s for dinner last night and hasn’t come back. We’re guessing it went verrrrry well,” Margo said around her toast. Larry shot her a sharp look. She really was tactless sometimes.

“Hugh?” Spiros said, his mouth falling open.

“Yes, our lovely olive farmer Englishman,” Leslie said stroppily and shovelled food into his mouth.

Something dark cloaked Spiros’ face and Larry sighed. He shot the older man a sympathetic look but couldn’t do more than that. If his mother was happy, that was going to have to be enough for him. He certainly didn’t begrudge her if it meant she wasn’t crying or drinking every night.

“Right, well … tell your mother I stopped by, I wanted to just check in with all of you.” Spiros shoved his hat onto his head, leaving with a small, albeit insincere, smile. When he was gone Margo looked at her brothers.

“That was weird,” She said and they fell into a glum silence. Why was no one happy these days? Had the magic of Corfu worn off or were they simply too far worn down?

Lugaretzia came shuffling in, her hand firmly clasping her lower back. When she saw the miserable faces she rolled her eyes and said something in Greek, to the ceiling. Only Leslie understood but he didn’t say anything. The rest were too despondent to care.


	3. "I want to love you again..."

She had managed to not cry all the way home, even after she had crept out of Hugh’s house surreptitiously and made her way across town whilst the world of Corfu was beginning to come to life. The rising sun hurt her eyes, and her stomach squeezed with every laden step. A heaviness settled on her chest. She hated herself. Despised herself more than she’d even done before. Her head throbbed both from the aggressive sex, and the burgeoning hangover setting in. 

How could she ever look anyone in the eye again after this? Let alone Spiros. Oh and of course Hugh! Now she’d have to break it off or commit. She wasn’t sure which she wanted. No one said anything when she skulked sheepishly into the kitchen. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, mumbled ‘good morning’ and retreated to her bedroom without waiting for a reply, though she was sure she heard a girlish snigger. 

Louisa washed and redressed in record time, ignoring the marks from the night before that mottled her skin like unwelcomed reminders. But when she caught site of her puffy face, her breath caught. She looked a state and when she touched the back of her head, she winced. She could still feel where he pulled on her hair and a tear slipped down her cheek. She let it drip down. Everywhere ached, not just from where Hugh had laid his hands, but also from everywhere Spiros hadn’t. Her chest ached with forbidden love and her stomach hurt from self hatred. 

When she was sure she wouldn’t have a breakdown she smoothed her hands over her trousers and descended the stairs. Margo had gone, presumably to work. And Gerry was off… God knows where. Only Leslie and Larry were left. Her two little sloths. Leslie sat rigid on the patio, a gun barrel between his legs and he pushed a tube up and down it. Larry held pages of his manuscript in one hand, a pencil in the other. It was warm out on the patio but Louisa shivered. Lugaretzia stuck her head out.

“You want breakfast?” She said. The thought of food literally turned her stomach and she declined. She walked to the wall that stopped her family from plummeting to their deaths every day and thrust her hands into her pockets. She took a deep breath, and just for a moment she began to feel normal.

“Oh! Spiros stopped by this morning, said to tell you he was checking in,” Leslie said without looking up. Then he stopped shoving the bar down the barrel and looked up. “He hasn’t been around much the past few months. I wonder what’s the matter with him.”

Larry dropped his pencil loudly. “Oh for God’s sake!” 

Why were his siblings so bloody clueless and obtuse?! Louisa’s jaw fell open and her heart pounded against her ribs.

“Right…” she said. Larry watched her face crumble in the subtlest of ways and inwardly cursed all this turmoil. She played with her lower lip, trying desperately to keep composure. She wanted to run back into the house but forced herself to remain put. To breathe through it. The pain would end once again, soon. But it didn’t. It got stronger and stronger until it began to consume her. Her headache was but a drop in the ocean compared to this.

Larry stood up, tilting his head to her to follow him. When had he become the pillar of stability? Her shoulder to cry on? Not that he minded, but she certainly felt it unfair that she was relying on him more and more.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a low tone when they had gone thirty or so feet from the house. She closed her eyes.

“Nothing,” she said when she reopened them. She looked more composed, stronger, but Larry knew she was incredibly brittle these days.

She wouldn’t acquiesce that she wasn’t fine so Larry sighed and put a hand to his hip.

“Okay, how’s Hugh?” he said. It was somewhat innocent but also pointed. He wanted her to be happy but right now it didn’t look like he was making her happy.

“He’s fine,” she said and Larry nodded slowly like he hadn’t believed her.

“So… are we going to talk about you staying out all night?” he said, raising an eyebrow. He really had become like the parent. Her eyes met his and she suddenly burst into tears. Larry’s eyes widened; well he hadn’t been expecting that. She fell into his arms like she had done before, to his choruses of, “what’s wrong?”

“Hugh and I… slept together,” she choked against his shoulder. Larry almost grinned. Almost. 

“Well there’s nothing wrong with that,” he gently reminded her, holding her at arms length. She looked horrified that this entire conversation was even happening. “It’s perfectly normal.” 

“Maybe for you, but certainly not for me!” she chided. The moment was done and she was back to the parent. She swiped at her face and he regarded her sadly.

“If Hugh makes you happy then I’ll not say another word but … if this is just a desperate attempt to get over Spiros, please don’t. It’s not worth… this,” he said.

——————————————————-

“As much as I loved the other night, I really do prefer days like these,” Hugh said. He was sat on the picnic blanket opposite Louisa, who smiled with relief.

“Me too, I’m not sure what came over me the other night,” she admitted, looking at her hands. He handed her a glass of orange juice. 

“No alcohol today,” he smiled and she took it, sipping delicately. “I really do still love you Louisa. And I was thrilled when you agreed to meet me.”

She was working hard on pushing away Spiros. He hadn’t been to see her in a week and she certainly couldn’t go to his house. She missed him.

“I-” she started. “I want to love you again Hugh, I really do. I just… need time.”

When she saw his crestfallen face she said, “this is helping though,” spreading her arm across the picnic. He grinned and she so yearned for him to be the one her heart belonged to. He leaned in to touch her face and just as she was about to meet him for a kiss, animated Greek chatter split their little bubble in two.

Two young children, no older than Gerry came barreling out of the brush. Louisa opened her mouth to speak, startled by their sudden presence but the bushes parted and Spiros appeared. His face was jubilant and happy until he saw the couple. Louisa’s eyes went to the two children and back to his face. 

Hugh said ‘hello’ to the little boy and girl in Greek. Both chimed it back to him. Louisa however couldn’t force her mouth to say anything.

Spiros’ eyes burned into hers until it became too uncomfortable for her to maintain and she looked at the ground, blinking back tears.

“Spiros,” Hugh said in that clipped tone that hardly ever hid his disdain.

“Hugh,” Spiros said, (in his accent it sounded like ‘who’). “Louisa.” 

Louisa didn’t say anything, just brushed at the skirt on her dress.

“So the rumours are true, the olive man is back,” Spiros raised an eyebrow. Even after almost a year it was painfully obvious how much the two men hated each other.

“So it appears,” Hugh said and Louisa felt the familiar anger beginning to bubble up. They were grown men for God’s sake! The two children looked from their father to these two strangers. Louisa couldn’t fail to notice how much like him they were. The thought split her in two.

“I’d love to stay and … err how you say, ‘chat’ all day, but I have stuff,” Spiros said. When Louisa looked in his eyes she saw they were startlingly hard. 

“Don’t let us keep you,” Hugh said. Spiros tugged on his jacket and Louisa begged herself to say something but he was already pulling his children away, guiding them down the path.

“Pappy, who were they?” the little boy asked.

“No one,” Spiros said gruffly. That hurt Louisa more than it should. Hugh however looked positively seething.

“God I’d forgotten about him!” he muttered but her heart was still her in mouth. “Louisa?” he said and she jerked her head back to him. “Are you okay?”

She wondered whether she should tell him about Spiros, but when she opened her mouth, she found she couldn’t. So she smiled instead.

“I’m fine,” she said as he took her hand and kissed it.

“I really do wish you and Spiros could get along,” she said once her heart had stopped pounding in her throat.

“Spiros is… he’s a bit of an…. well we’ll never get on, my angel. I’m sorry I know he’s your friend. But he and I will never be friends, Louisa.” Hugh said, dropping her hand and leaning onto his elbows. She looked at some bird on a tree branch for a long moment. Were Spiros and she still friends? she thought. Right now she didn’t think so.

“He’s spoiled the mood, hasn’t he?” Hugh said, sitting back up. He was watching the hill that Spiros had descended down with a glare. She dusted something imaginary off of her knee.

“Hugh,” she started. “let’s not spoil this.”

That seemed to break the spell and he turned to her with a smile. She leaned over and kissed him, desperately wanting to feel sparks, or something other than the hollowness.


	4. "Still married..."

There was an unmistakable smile on her face when she walked through the trees and came to a halt. The smile vanished almost immediately. She sighed and approached the house.

Spiros, predictably, was leaning against his car, his hat in his hands and his gaze aimed at his feet. Four months on and he only had to reappear to remind her of the heartache she’d managed to partially bury.

“Spiros,” she curtly as she walked past him around the side of the house. “Where are your children?” 

“I took them home,” he said, following her into the kitchen. “So… Hugh is back.” 

It wasn’t a question and she wasn’t sure whether to find his jealousy touching as she once did, or to be annoyed.

“Yes,” she said. She dropped her bag onto the table and took the kettle to the stove. 

“England had enough of him huh?” he said and annoyance won out.

“Actually, if you must know, he came back because he still loves me,” she said but immediately regretted it when she saw the flash of pain flicker across his eyes. “Spi-” she went to say but he cut her off.

“Do you love him?” He asked. He looked as if it might kill him if she said ‘yes’. She was, however floored by the question because she truly didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know if she loved him. There had never been a moment where she’d had to question her love for Spiros once she’d allowed herself to feel it. So why didn’t she know whether she loved Hugh or not? Her eyes his and she shrugged.

“Oh Spiros, can’t we be friends?” she said breathlessly. He looked everywhere but at her.

“I’m not sure,” he finally lifted his head to look at her. His expression was one of muted devastation and she felt a lump rising in her throat. “I have to go, I told my wife I wouldn’t be long.” 

There was that dreaded word again. Wife.

“Right,” she whispered and watched him walk away from her again. The tears spilled over and she tried to wipe them away several times, before she just relented and let them fall.

—————————————-

Hugh rolled his eyes when he saw the car pull up. He yelled to his worker and went to meet his unwelcome visitor.

“Mr Halikiopoulos, what can I do for you?” he said, folding his arms. The mutual disdain was obvious.

“I came for a bottle of your olive stuff, I want to know what the fuss is,” Spiros shrugged. The two men squared up and Hugh scoffed.

“I’m sure,” he said. “I’m guessing you’re here about Louisa.”

Just hearing another man say her name when he couldn’t, drove a spear through his chest.

Spiros went to open his mouth but Hugh touched his shoulder and he looked at the hand with a frown.

“Look, we both know how you feel about her, and that you came between us last time. But I won’t let you come between us again. Because, I, unlike you can offer her everything, You have a family, so you need to stop trying to appropriate another,” Hugh said in a low tone, but all the while with a cold smile. Spiros shrugged the hand from his shoulder and glared at him. He was angry. Angrier than he could remember ever being. He knew, however, that Hugh was right. They glared at each other before Spiros huffed and turned away, walking back to his car. Hugh seethed. His hands went to his hips and he chewed on his lip. He watched Spiros drive away before he turned back to his foreman, yelling at him to work harder.

His mind was churning and now with Spiros ‘tantrum’ he’d made his mind up. She would be his.

——————————————

“So what’s going on?” Florence said. She handed Louisa a cup of tea and sank into the seat opposite. Louisa wasn’t sure how she’d got roped into an impromptu therapy session; she had only walked Margo to work with the intention to go to the market after. But something on her face must have screamed ‘basket case’. And so here she was. 

“Well-” she broke off with a weak laugh. Where to start. She sipped at the tea in the hopes she’d never have to speak. It didn’t work. Florence raised her eyebrows at her.

“Hugh’s back,” she said as if it was news. It wasn’t. Hugh had been back for nearly two months and Florence knew this.

“Right,” she only said, sipping her tea.

“He says he loves me,” Louisa said, vaguely smug. It was a relief not to be talking about Spiros for once, even if it was just for a moment.

“Is…is that a good thing?” Florence said, tilting her head to the side.

“Of course!” Louisa was too quick to answer and it was impossible not to notice the glance she drowned in her cup. Florence sat back and rested her hands on her knees.

“So… Spiros is…” she started, raising her eyebrows. Well that didn’t last long. Louisa resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Still married,” Louisa finished as nonchalantly as she could.

“He looks very miserable. I think he’s pining for you still,” Florence said and Louisa could feel herself reaching a point of white anger.

“You know, everyone keeps telling me about Spiros, and how we feel about each other. Larry keeps telling me I should fight to be with him, but it’s been 6 bloody months, his wife is still here and he barely talks to me anyway. It’s … exhausting!” she snapped, gulping down the rest of the tea.

“Sorry,” her friend said sheepishly. “I just worry about you. I worry about Spiros. Neither of you have been happy in a long time.”

“Yes well I’m happy now. Hugh is not married,” Louisa reminded her quickly but Florence didn’t look convinced.

“And are you? Happy?” she said. Louisa avoided her glance and put her cup down. She stared at the clasped hands in her lap.

“I can be,” she finally said.

“Is that enough?”

“Well…. I can’t have what I want, so it’ll have to be,” she choked before taking a breath to steady her shuddering chest. 

She was right, there was no way she could truly be happy, not without him, but she’d have to settle for the alternative. Maybe in time Hugh could make her happy. He seemed more in love with her than ever, doted on her. So why didn’t she love him back?

————————————————–

Spiros found the plate of food before him incredibly interesting, apparently, for he stared into it even as his wife asked him how his day was. He only grunted in response. He pushed the food around the plate.

“Spiros?” his wife said and when he looked up she was staring at him, her hands spread out and her expression of exasperation. He was almost surprised to see her there, he expected another to be sat beside him. One who never would.

His name bracketed with Greek, and with an accent didn’t sound the same as it did with the innocence of the English tone. He missed the way SHE said his name.

“Hmm?” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. He looked from Celena to his children, trying to be as breezy as he could.

His son Isidoros grinned at him but his daughter Alexandria, slightly older, could see the cracks and looked at him curiously.

“I said did you fix the hen house? I found another wandering again?” Celena complained and he dropped his fist to the table, where it landed with a much harder slam than he’d intended. He rubbed his forehead with the other hand.

“For God’s sake Celena, I said I’d get to it!” he snapped, ignoring the flash of hurt on her face. After all, she was his jailer, he couldn’t pretend he was anything other than a caged lion. He failed to notice the confused looks his children exchanged.

“Papa,” Alexandria said tentatively.

“What?!” he said, jerking his head to look at her. Even at 12, she was more grownup than he’d like. And now her beautiful face was contorted in the kind of horror a child usually displayed when they were shouted at. He instantly felt guilty. He hated snapping at his children. He smiled at her and she sat back in the chair with the smallest of pouts. 

Celena frowned at him. She knew something wasn’t right with him, hadn’t been for a while but she never attributed it to their return from Athens. 

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, punctuated only by the dullest of small talk. All the while Spiros wanted to scream.

“Papa, you don’t seem very happy,” Alexandria looked up at him from her bed and he leaned back before taking her hand. He had leant in to give her a goodnight kiss and she had noticed the sadness in his eyes. He smiled just for her.

“Of course I am happy, how could I not be? I have you and your brother,” he leaned in and she finally broke into a reassured smile. He kissed her again and extinguished the lamp. 

His smile stayed plastered to his face until he had shut the door and rested his back against it. It took several deep breaths before he could face his wife. And when he walked into their small living room she was sat with her back to him, her back stiff and her head bowed.

“I’m going to bed,” Spiros said, almost unable to meet her gaze when she turned around. She watched him go and he sank onto the bed, eyes closed. He pulled off his shirt, imagining another’s hands slipping each button from its hole. He could almost feel the ghost of her lips on his, even though they’d never actually kissed. The door opened behind him and for a split second he thought it was her, even though every recess of his mind told him it couldn’t be possible.

A weight settled on the bed behind at his back and he looked at the space between his feet. Arms snaked around his shoulders and his wife hugged him from behind. She kissed his neck. He tilted his head away. 

“Celena,” he said wearily. It took every ounce of his self control not to call her ‘Louisa’. She ignored him and kissed the back of his neck, sliding a hand down under his vest.

“Celena! Please!” he growled. There it was again, ‘Louisa’ on the tip of his tongue. Oh how he yearned to taste her. To move as one. He hated himself. How could he possibly be having salacious thoughts of another woman whilst his wife was around his neck? But it wasn’t lust or purely sexual. It was love and that’s why he struggled to shake it off. 

“Come on my darling, we haven’t… since…” she murmured in his ear.

“Since you left, you mean?” he said in a low voice. And about the time, I started thinking of making love to somebody else, he thought.

“But I’m back now,” she purred. Didn’t he know it!? He could be with HER if she hadn’t come back. Instead now he was a shell.

“I have a headache,” he lied. He could almost smell Louisa’s hair, the way it smelt so floral, the day he broke both their hearts.

“Come on,” she said again, her voice sultry and beckoning.

“I don’t want to,” he snapped and she pulled away. He knew he should feel guilty but he didn’t.

“Fine!” she said stroppily and pulled away. 

He waited until she had blown the candle out and got under the blankets before he slid into the uncomfortable bed. He stared up at the ceiling unblinking. Was Louisa at Hugh’s tonight? Was he between her thighs where HE should be? He desperately tried not to think of it. He had no business thinking that way and he wanted it to stop. Didn’t he?


	5. "Louisa, my angel."

“Its… It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Hugh fumbled over the words uncharacteristically. Louisa looked around; it was beautiful. She believed all of Corfu was. The sun kissed them as it shimmered in the sea. She listened to the gulls crying to one another.

“Yes, it is,” she said wistfully. She looked at him with a wry smile. It wasn’t like him to lose his cool and collected exterior. She looked away, looking across the landscape where a flock of birds dipped and swelled as one. It reminded her of Bournemouth on a nice day (and those were far and few in between). When she turned back to him, her mouth fell open and her breath caught. He was standing close behind her, a black box in his hand.

“Louisa, my angel, I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he started and her heart pounded in her throat. Did she want this? He smiled that pearly white grin and her stomach squeezed. “Will you marry me?”

He leaned in close, nearly resting his forehead against hers. Their breath mingled.

“I … I …” she stammered. Simultaneously she wanted to kiss him and run away. Her eyes brimmed with tears that weren’t purely happy. “Oh Hugh..’ His smile faltered. “It’s just… quite soon.”

They had been playing this game for 2 and a half months now and she still wasn’t sure she could even begin to love him again.

“Love knows no time Louisa,” he said. He gripped her hand then pulled it open, placing the box in her palm and closing her fingers around it.

“Don’t say no yet… just… think about it, please?” he said softly and she nodded before she knew what she was doing. How on earth had she gotten into this mess? He leaned forward and kissed her mouth.

The walk home was a daze, the little black box was burning a hole in her trouser pocket as she wandered through the brush to her house. What was she going to do? She could marry Hugh in the the hopes that she’d be be happy, in love, but if she didn’t fall in love with him, it would be unfair on both of them. But she must love him even a little bit to have not turned him down. Right? There was an ember somewhere for him but it was being hugely overshadowed by the devastating forest fire left behind by Spiros, that had yet to burn itself out.

 

Where would they live? she wondered as she approached the house she loved.

“What’s the matter with you?” Larry scoffed as she wandered into the clearing. She’d been so preoccupied that she hadn’t seen him and she jumped. Why was he always around like the personification of her conscience. “You have an odd expression, what’s going on?” he frowned at her, unable to decide whether this was a good or bad thing.

She approached him, unsure what to even say. She gripped the wall and he stopped typing. Now he was very intrigued.

“Hugh proposed,” she said. When she turned to face him, he was quick to hide the horror on his face as his heart sank.

“Right, and you said?” he raised an eyebrow. He was not ready to accept Hugh as his new stepdaddy.

“I said I’d think about it,” she shrugged. She wasn’t sure what to feel. She felt neither happy nor sad. That was an issue in itself, surely she should feel something? What she did know is that if Spiros had proposed she wouldn’t feel such a tugging in opposite directions. 

“Marriage… mother-” he started and she waved him off.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she turned away, mind whirring. Then she turned back to him, her hand on her hip. “And why would it be a bad thing? We could be very happy together!”

“And does he make you happy?” he asked sincerely. Louisa threw her hands in the air.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?!” she cried. 

“Maybe because everyone knows you’ll only be happy with-”

“If you even utter the name Spiros, I will throw your typewriter in the sea,” she said abruptly and his mouth fell closed. She flounced into the house before the tears could come. 

Larry sat rigid for several minutes, staring at the space she’d occupied. Then he stood up, snatching his jacket up.

———————————————-

“Come on,” he muttered to himself. He knocked again. Finally the netting was pulled aside and he could see the occupant staring back at him. Bloody hell he looked rough!

“Larry?” Spiros said wearily when he’d pulled the door open. Larry danced from foot to foot. 

“Listen, my mother is going to marry Hugh. I know you still care about her and Lord knows she still loves you. If you still feel even a fraction of the love for her that I think you do, for God’s sake man, do something about it!” he said emotively, passionately and then he was walking away, leaving Spiros shell shocked. A pain split his chest in 2. 

He couldn’t stop her marrying someone else, especially if she was happy. It wouldn’t be right of him. He wanted her to be happy above all else, even when he knew that happiness couldn’t lie with him. He was doomed to a lifetime of melancholy, of longing for someone he couldn’t have. Honor was beginning to wear him down to a point where he wasn’t even sure he believed in it anymore. But he didn’t know what Larry expected him to do, he couldn’t ask her to change her mind, couldn’t sweep her up and marry her himself. 

But what he did do was drive to the olive king’s house, taking the steps up to his house 3 at a time. He pounded on the door, though he had no idea what he would say when it was pulled open. He didn’t have time to think for Hugh appeared angrily before him.

“What now?” he said, balling his fist on his hip.

Spiros glared at him. “You want to marry Mrs Durrells?” It came out as an accusation rather than a question.

Momentarily Hugh’s mouth dropped open, then he remembered news always traveled fast on this island. That’s partially why he hated it.

“Yes, you see, I am free to do so,” he finally said, taking several defiant steps towards his love rival. Spiros knew he was right but couldn’t bear to see him become the one to call her his wife.

“That may be, but she deserves better than you,” he said, desperate to wound the olive farmer in the way that he had wounded him.

Hugh smirked.

“Just admit it Americanos, you’ve lost. She’s mine now and you’ll never have her,” he snarled.

“You don’t own her, she’s not yours to own,” Spiros furrowed his brow and his fists clenched at his side. He was angrier than he’d ever been. How could THIS be the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with?!

“You need to leave,” Hugh pointed a finger past him with slitted eyes.

Spiros leaned in. Hugh was right; there was nothing he could do about it. And maybe that’s what angered him more than anything.

“If you hurt her-” he found himself saying, his finger pointed at Hugh’s chest accusatorily. Hugh scoffed. The smirk was back and he rolled his eyes, trying to look away but Spiros moved in closer. He was only moments short of grabbing his shirt and shaking him. “You be sorry.”

“And why’s that?” Hugh said. Spiros didn’t answer, just let the suggestion hang in the air like his unspoken love. “Are you threatening me, Mr Halikiopoulos?” 

Hugh always sneered his name and Spiros straightened his back. 

“If I was, you’d know it,” he said simply. Hugh balled up his fist and tried to stop himself from hitting him. That would earn him no points with Louisa if he punched her precious taxi driver. Luckily for him, Spiros turned on his heel and trotted back down to the car, leaving Hugh frothing at the mouth. 

———————————————————

Something akin to fire flushed through Spiros’ veins as he drove the back roads of Corfu, taking corners far too recklessly. He wasn’t actively looking for her when he found her (though subconsciously he was always searching for her, whether it be in his head, or across the busy market). She was walking back from that market now, he guessed, for she had her basket in hand. 

He slowed down, pressing his hand to the hooter and when she turned around (albeit slowly, as if she dreaded seeing him), he pulled onto the grass.

“We need to talk,” he called and she walked back over the twenty feet or so, to reach him. He leaned over and opened the car door for her to get in and when she reluctantly did, he turned to face her. His arm ran the length of the back of the seat and she struggled not to notice it when she leant back. Neither spoke. 

Though he faced her, his gaze was turned downwards and hers was up in the air. The close proximity was suffocating and she ached for him. It he kissed her now, she wouldn’t stop him.

“You can’t marry him,” he finally said and the ache for him fluttered away, replaced by something cold.

“What?” she said. She looked into his eyes. Saw the sadness, the love, but didn’t care.

“Hugh. You can’t marry him,” he repeated. It wasn’t so much a demand but a plea. But she didn’t take it that way.

“Because I don’t get to move on?” She sputtered, approaching disbelief and anger. The question stunned him. He had no answer for that. “It’s perfectly fine for you to go back to your happy family and I get to live alone and miserable?” 

He frowned. He didn’t understand her tone.

“No. I meant-” he said, clutching his steering wheel harder than necessary.

“Oh I know what you meant!” she said sharply.

“Louis-” he started to say.

“Don’t!” she snapped and his face fell.

“Mrs Durrells, he’s not right …” he said softly, sadly.

“He’s not married,” she said pointedly and a spear shot through his chest. She was right of course, and that hurt more than anything.

“Please don’t marry him,” he looked at her and she tried to ignore the sadness in every inch of his face. Even his sadness wasn’t enough to quell the fire of anger bubbling deep within her. She opened the door, hesitating before she turned back to him.

“You have no right to say that to me,” she said. Her eyes were beginning to water and she feared she’d start crying if she didn’t walk away now.

“But he’s-” he said as she slid from the car.

“No!” she snapped. When she’d slammed the door, her gaze met his. “You know, your wife is right, you are selfish!”

Louisa turned and was walking away from him before he could protest. His pleas for her not to marry another man echoed in her head, louder and louder with each step. Angry, hot tears started dripping down her cheeks.

“Mrs Durrells!” he shouted after her but she didn’t stop. “Louisa!”

At that her resolve faltered but she didn’t turn around. He slammed his fist on his steering wheel and rubbed a hand over his weary face.


	6. "Have you made a decision?"

“So?” Hugh said, raising his eyebrows. He kissed her hands and Louisa smiled. “Have you made a decision?”

“I…” she started, unsure entirely how to answer that.

“It’s been a fortnight,” he continued, kissing her hands again. She swallowed.

“I haven’t really spoken to my children about it, only Larry and he was … a little concerned,” she said. Hugh dropped sulkily to one hip.

“It’s not really their decision is it? It’s yours my angel,” he said and she frowned.

“Well no, it’s a family decision. I told you last year - I don’t come as a single package, I-” she started.

“And I understand that, but Louisa, I don’t want to spend another day without you,” he cut her off, dropping her hands and gripping her shoulders. She wished she felt the same way about him; it might have made life far easier than it was.

“I just need more time,” she said. He dropped her shoulders with a heavy sigh. She suddenly felt not only sad but also like she’d disappointed him.

“It’s because of Spiros isn’t it?” he said looking past her. She saw the flash of anger in his eyes.

“What?” she said. Why did everything in her life come back to that man?!

“You know - his interest in you is not innocent,” he said and she felt a coldness creeping up on her.

“Hugh,” she started, shaking her head.

“No! It’s true. I know you don’t want to accept he’s not your friend, but he really wants you for himself. He’s not trying to be just your friend!” he insisted. She was beginning to feel the tears pressing at the back of her eyes. She didn’t want to keep talking about Spiros. She thought about him 75% of the day as it was.

“Hugh, he’s married,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. He noticed her expression.

“He may be married, but he is so in love with you, it seems only you can’t see it!” He threw his arms up in the air, scoffing. 

She felt tears slipping down her cheeks. The brutal honesty of what he was saying, cut into her. Of course she knew! She couldn’t possibly fail to notice the way he still felt, for she felt it too. But it didn’t matter because he was married.

“Hugh stop it! It doesn’t matter because he has a family, a wife! So even if what you’re saying is true, it doesn’t matter!” she cried. Had he’d been thinking clearly, he might have considered her words. He didn’t answer however, just brooded. “I have to go.”

“Louisa, I’m sorry,” he finally said.

“I just-” she stopped when her voice broke. “I need time to talk to my family.”

He nodded begrudgingly then leaned in to kiss her. She prayed to feel anything but she didn’t.

———————————————-

She wasn’t that far from home when she saw her children marching towards her, suspiciously cordial. 

“Oh God what’s happened?” she said, forgetting her own despair.

“You have a visitor, I’m getting this lot out of the way,” Larry told her, almost knowingly as he frogmarched them past her. She watched them go, her heart pounding furiously against her ribs. Her suspicions were proven correct when she rounded the corner and saw his car. 

She was both afraid and happy to see him, though the emotions were fighting for equal leadership. Her breath was forcefully removed from her lungs and she gulped in air. She touched the bonnet of his car, letting her fingertip trail across it, almost caressing the metal the way she could never caress his body.

He was standing in front of the fireplace when she walked in. His back to her, he appeared to be studying the family photographs.

“Spiros,” she said quietly. It was neither a greeting or an acknowledgement; it had simply been too long since the word had rested on her tongue. He turned sharply as if he hadn’t expected her to be there.

“I’m sorry abut err… the other week. I wanted to come sooner, but didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” he said. She was most taken aback by his appearance; he looked disheveled, like he hadn’t slept in weeks, months maybe. And his eyes were dull, no life in them. She wanted to cry for him.

She put her bag down and waved it off like all was forgiven.

“I know I have no right to tell you what to do, I just-” he continued, pausing when his voice started to crack. She could see the tears in his eyes when he looked at her. “Does he make you happy?”

That damned question again. She looked away. She couldn’t lie to him, couldn’t bear to the discuss the truth. Instead, it seemed she’d just avoid the question. Her avoidance however confirmed not only his worst fear, but also the truth she hadn’t wanted to admit. When she finally looked at him, he saw the truth before she said.

“I don’t think I can ever be happy again,” she said. It was the most honest conversation they’d had in months. He didn’t seem to want to hear that. He approached her, closing the space between them.

“I just want you to be happy,” he choked. Tears spilled down her cheeks as he reached in and took her hands, kissing them. His mouth lingered on her skin and she let out a sob. Nearly 7 months of separation had led to this point, and yet it was almost as if no time had passed at all. 

Then he said something that changed everything. 

“Because I love you,” he murmured. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. She had longed to hear him say but now she wasn’t sure how she could go on.

“Spiros, we can’t-” she went to say but he kissed her hand again, caressing her fingers between his. She couldn’t stop now and she rested her forehead against his, letting out another sob. He held her face just as he had all those months ago. He leaned in and his lips touched hers. Something exploded behind her eyes and her lungs wouldn’t work.

“Louisa,” he murmured when they parted for breath. She looked at him and all the pain was gone. His arm was tight around her waist, his other hand caressed the back of her head. Her own hands were balled up on either side of his neck, clutching his shirt. He leaned in again and she met him half way. She felt like she’d previously been dead and he’d brought her back to life. A warmth spread through her like the sun had finally broken through the clouds. His mouth moved expertly on hers, like they were made to fit together. 

Abruptly, he pulled away and her eyes flung open. He was searching her face, his mouth poised in an open question. She knew what he was asking, and she knew the answer. She stroked his cheek.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she said. Now the words were out there, she’d never be able to outrun them.

He scooped her into his arms and she gave a startled yelp before hugging his neck. He set her down on the top floor and she pulled his face to hers. When they parted, she took his hand and led him into her bedroom. It felt sinful just to get to this point but both had stopped caring. 

She pushed the suspenders off his shoulders and pulled his shirt free from his trousers. She ran a hand under it and a throaty moan broke free. She unbuttoned the shirt and he pulled it off. She had never noticed how muscly his biceps were before but she ran her hands up them delicately. She was falling in love all over again and it made her dizzy. His hands rested on her back and he slid the zipper down on her dress, painfully slow. His hand grazed bare skin and it was like she’d never been touched before. 

She kissed his neck and they were falling onto the bed. His lips caught hers in a loyal display of undying love and she felt like every nerve of her body was exposed and on fire. And when their bodies connected, moving as one it were as if she’d been struck by lightning. 

He let her reach the plateau first, before he sent them both tumbling over the edge. She only cried out his name, once, but the sound to him, was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard. 

It was passionate, and slow and left them breathless and exhausted. Spiros kissed her forehead and moved off of her. Instantly, Louisa missed his warmth. She leaned into him, drowsily resting her head on his shoulder. Her arm draped lazily across his chest. He grasped her hand, holding it against his beating heart. It pounded like a jack hammer and his skin was covered by a thin film of sweat. She smiled to herself and kissed his jawline before she closed her eyes.

“I want to stay forever, but I have to go,” he said and her eyes snapped open. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep but the sky was starting to look dusky. She wondered if the children had been home - seen his car still in the driveway. 

Reluctantly she sat up, pulling the sheet with her. He slid out of the bed and dressed far less enthusiastically as he had undressed. He picked up her dress from where it had landed and handed it to her. He watched her pull it on and tried to quell the urge to take it off again.

His hand rested on the car door. He hesitated and turned to her. She looked flushed and her hair was sticking out at odd angles. She tried to smooth it but she was still a little unsteady on her feet, so gripped the door frame. He returned to her and she saw no hint of jubilance. For a moment she steeled herself for the potential heart break, 7 months after the first.

He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. Then, as if he couldn’t bear not to, he leaned in and kissed her quickly. Before she’d had time to catch her breath, he was driving away and she was alone. She knew she should go and have a bath but she wasn’t quite ready to wash the feeling of him, off of her, just yet.


	7. "We'll find a way."

“I haven’t seen you wear that dress in ages,” Margo said. Louisa looked down at it. She was of course referring to the beige and white polka dotted dress she’d worn to the circus. She smiled to herself and Larry frowned at her from over his typewriter. His mother had seemed far happier than she’d been in months, yet as far as he could tell she hadn’t agreed to marry Hugh… yet.

So he didn’t understand her jubilant mood. Until that very precise moment. He hadn’t noticed the dress, or its sudden reappearance after 7 long months, but once Margo had pointed it out, the implication was clear. Either she had gotten over Spiros, or gotten under him. He had been around more than usual, not as much as the old days but certainly more than in recent months. His mind stretched with possibilities as he worked over his mother’s light expression.

“Yes, well,” Louisa said, leaving it somewhat open ended. She was happy. Well, happier than she had been, but first she had to get an unenviable task out of the way. “Well… I’m going to see Hugh today.” She left out the rest and tried to ignore Margo screwing her face up.

Even Larry was confused. He guessed it answered his question but it wasn’t the answer he’d expected, or hoped for.

“Hugh?” Leslie chimed in, rolling his eyes. He’d not liked Hugh after he’d bowled that bounce ball and almost killed Spiros, but now with the olive farmer was making a comeback, he had kick started his anti Hugh campaign. So far it had fallen on deaf ears, or so he had thought.

“Yes Hugh,” Louisa said curtly. Larry leaned forward. This wasn’t how he had envisioned things going when he’d gone to Spiros but he couldn’t ignore the bounce in her step as she left the house that morning, her children exchanging odd glances.

She wrung her hands in front of her as his house loomed out of the horizon like an overbearing brick prison. She almost turned around but then she thought of the past 24 hours and the anxiety quelled a little.

She trotted up the stairs, reaching the door before she could turn away and checked her watch. She had 2 hours before she’d arranged to meet Spiros and she needed to get this done.

She’d knocked and fixed a smile, he’d answered within a few seconds, surprising her slightly. He however was ecstatic to see her but his own smile dropped when he saw her expression.

“Louisa?” he said and reached out to touch her arm but she instinctively pulled back.

“I can’t marry you Hugh,” she said. Her eyes watered in a way she hadn’t expected.

“What? Why?” he sputtered.

“I … just can’t. I’ve spent 3 months trying to love you again but …It wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” she finished weakly. Life would be simpler if she could fall in love with him again. But he was English, not Greek. 

“Louisa, I’ll do anything,” he pleaded, pulling on her hands.

“Hugh-” she said, pulling her hands away.

“Well we don’t have to get married, we can just stay as we are,” he said desperately and she could see how much she was hurting him.

She held out out the ring box to him but he didn’t take it. he simply gripped her shoulders and held her.

“We can’t …” she tried to pull away but his grip was too commanding.

“I gave up everything in England, to come back, for you!” He thrust his face into hers and guilt burned through her as she tried to avoid his gaze.

“Hugh, it’s just -” Her eyes blurred furiously. “Too much time has passed!” 

She let out a sob and he pulled abruptly away, his hand balled on his hip.

“It’s Spiros isn’t it?” he said. His face had grown a rare shade of scarlet and she took a step back.

“What? No!” she protested but he rubbed his face and let out of a scathing laugh.

“I knew he’d come in between us again. He can’t let us be happy because he doesn’t like me. The … the malaka!” He snapped. Her guilt and sorrow gave way to something else.

“I know what that means you know, and it’s nothing to do with Spiros! I don’t love you and I’m sorry you gave up everything for me, but I never asked you to!” she said, her voice getting several octaves higher as her irritation grew.

“Louisa…” he tried to reason but she was beyond caring. She threw the ring box at him and flounced down the steps before he could stop her. She heard the door slam behind her but she carried on walking, her chest felt lighter than it had done in months. 

She walked across town and carried on until she could see the cliff top and the log they’d sat on many times. She sank onto it and looked out towards the mainland. The sun warmed her, the breeze ruffled her hair. Strangely, she felt at peace, even if all around her, her life was crumbling apart. 

A car pulled up the road behind her and she looked at her watch; right on time, as always. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned to him, and smiled. 

“Hello,” she said and he sat beside her.

“Hello,” he echoed. Silence befell them as the pair stared out over the horizon.

“I gave Hugh his ring back. He’s not very happy,” she said, without looking at him. He felt something akin to a burgeoning fire deep in his chest. It was a mixture of relief and love.

“I’m sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t sure why.

“You were right, I don’t love him,” she shrugged. 

He looked at her sadly but she only smiled. Faintly, but it was there and the spear that had been lodged in his chest for so long started to be drawn out. He held her gaze and took her hand.

“I’m not sorry - what we did,” he told her. The sincerity in his voice, his eyes made her stomach hurt. Her eyes watered and he shimmered before her.

“Me neither,” she whispered. His other hand grazed her jaw and he touched her lip with his thumb.

“We’ll find a way,” he said, returning his gaze to the sea. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder and he released her hand, draping his arm around her and holding her tight against him.


	8. "I love you"

Should she be concerned that her lover was married? Louisa wondered as he came trotting in, having taken the last of her guests away for the day (they hoped) sometime previously. He crossed the room towards her, a lustful grin spread across his face. One that she was sure she mirrored. 

She knew what was coming but it still took her breath away. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. It started with slow intent but as her fingers buried themselves in the nape of his neck, and the room grew impossibly warm, the pace quickened like they’d die if they didn’t have each other right then.

Spiros’ arms encircled her, holding her right against him and she could feel every rippling muscle as he pushed them both against the wall. The force was such that a picture fell off and smashed. His arms cushioned them and he winced as the weight of them combined crushed his arms against the wall. 

The pain was fleeting as he lost himself in her again. She nipped at his lower lip and he let out of a breathy moan. When had he become so carnal? Obsessed with lustful urges!? But it wasn’t sex he was obsessed with, it was her. She was intoxicating to him, and the pain of being apart most of the time was only soothed by being near her, with her, by making her whimper beneath his weight. And the more they continued their passionate trysts, the less he was able to deal with not being by her side.

He pulled away from her mouth t breathe and buried his face in her neck. He butterfly kissed her hot skin, and she pulled on his shirt collar. Spiros scrambled for the hem of her skirt, sliding it upwards. His fingers trailed over her thigh and she shivered. He lifted her leg up, and in response, Louisa wrapped it around his waist. His pelvis pressed in her hers and he ran a hand along the inside of her thigh. He reached her knickers, pushing the silky barrier to the side. A whimper fell from her mouth.

“Louisa,” he murmured, pulling his face out of her neck to crash his lips down on her hers. 

“Mrs Durrell!” a voice called and they pulled urgently apart. It was that annoying man who had come over with his elderly mother. She pulled down her skirt hastily, immediately missing the touch of his hands on her skin. Her own hands went to her hair, trying her best to flatten it down. She noticed that Spiros had turned himself away from the door. 

“Err, in here Mr Droghall,” she called, her voice several octaves too high. She reached out a hand to the wall to steady herself. The man strolled in, his hat in hand and she couldn’t even look at Spiros, let alone the intruder. She chose to stare at a spot just above his head.

“Mrs Durrell, I thought I might ask you to join me for an afternoon stroll,” he said. He was not exactly not handsome, but a little weak, like a puppy kicked one too many times. She scrunched up her nose, about to say ‘no’. “Please?” he added and she looked behind her to see Spiros’ bacj.

“Erm,” she fumbled, releasing the wall, “yes, okay then.” She didn’t really want to but she wanted the man out of her house. He looked at her expectantly and her eyes widened.

“Oh you mean now?!” she said, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Well, I’ve left my mother with your delightful friend Mr Stephanides and I hoped Mr Halikiopoulos would drive us into the town?” the man looked past her to Spiros who, having seemingly regained his composure, turned to the visitor with a smile. 

“Of course,” he said almost begrudgingly. 

Mr Droghall broke into a wide grin, one that gave him an almost boyish appearance and he held an expression that roamed over her. One she didn’t appreciate.

“If you could just -” she gesticulated to her and Spiros and he nodded conspiratorially.

“Right, yes! I’ll wait by the car, Louisa,” he said and she smiled unpleasantly.

She had insisted all the guests call her Louisa but it sounded unsavoury out of his mouth. When she was sure he’d gone, she turned to Spiros almost apologetically. She approached him and stroked his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. He shrugged with a small smile. 

“It’s fine,” he told her, turning his head to kiss her palm. It wasn’t fine, she thought. She’d much rather have him in her bedroom, rather than have to endure another pompous Englishman who thought he was a potential suitor. 

Then he broke away and she followed him out to the car sadly. The whispers of their unfinished encounter following her like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#- 

Larry eyed Louisa over his typewriter. Now the guests were all gone (and she’d expressly told him not to invite anymore, at least for a little while), he actually had time to write. Except his mother had been pacing on and off for the past half an hour, casting odd glances in his direction like she had something to say that she’d been bottling up.

After the fourth round of pacing, he stopped typing and threw his arms up in the air.

“For God’s sake. Just spit it out and stop pacing!” he snapped and she jumped. She looked around for her other children then approached him, wringing her hands. She slid into the seat beside him and he lit a cigarette.

He watched her but her gaze was fixed on the table. “Well?” he said, raising an eyebrow. She took a deep breath.

“I really don’t want to embroil you in this…” she started, unable to look him in the eye. He had gone from irritation, to amusement to confusion and now he was stopped at concern. 

“What’s happened?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

She leaned forward.

“Nothing…I just…” she steeled herself, rolling her shoulders. “I need you to clear the house out, I need an evening to myself.”

He looked at her and she forced herself to be forceful, confident, despite the tremor in her hands.

“If this is so you can engage in playful relations with Hugh, just go to his bloody house,” he scoffed. Her gaze flickered away, down to her hands.

“Not Hugh…” she murmured and his eyes widened like saucers. He tilted his head to look at her.

“What? Who?!” he sounded scandalised, outraged even and she blushed furiously. She looked at him only once before averting her glance quickly. His mouth dropped open.

“Oh my god! Spiros?!” he hissed and she refused to answer he said, “As in married Spiros?”

She looked sharply at him. “Well you didn’t seem to have a problem with it before.”

“And I don’t have a problem with it now … but I’m surprised at your attitude. You’ve always been so conservative about sex,” Larry shrugged and she winced at his brazen use of the word ‘sex’. 

“I just…” she paused and pushed out of her seat, flailing her arms around her. She leaned on the wall and he came to stand beside her. They stared out at the sea.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said as he offered her the cigarette. She took it, drew in two large drags and handed it back.

“Listen, I’m happy to be instrumental in you satisfying carnal urges,” he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes. Then he turned serious. “But… just… sex with Spiros is a bad idea when you feel the way you do. You’ll both be hurt in the long run.” He had become the parent, yet again.

“It’s … it’s not ‘sex’,” she said, whispering the word ‘sex’ like it was sordid, “I mean… it’s not just about that.” She screwed her eyes up, hating herself for having to have this conversation. When she looked back at him, her eyes were watering. He pursed his lips. “I think this is the only way we can be together, even for just an hour here and there.”

“Alright, I’ll make sure the house is empty tomorrow evening,” he said cautiously, stubbing out his cigarette. She stared at the water, her mind churning too fast for her to catch up and her chest rose and fell quickly.

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#- 

The picnic basket lay empty between them and Louisa refilled Spiros’ glass before she filled her own, taping a sip from it.

“It’s so beautiful down here,” she said wistfully. They’d chosen a spot down the hill from her house, that overlooked the coast but was enough of a private oasis that they could pretend only they existed.

“Yes,” he said, but he was looking at her, not the view and when she noticed, she blushed with a shy smile. Too wrapped up in each other, neither had noticed the black clouds starting to gather momentum. She stared intently at her lap, her legs tucked underneath her. 

She felt nervous, like a teenager on a first date, something that always seemed to happen around him. She dusted something imaginary from her skirt, her wine glass abandoned on the ground beside the basket.

“It reminds me of India sometimes,” she blurted and he looked sideways at her, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “The trees, the water lapping at the shore. The bizarre animals.” She let out a small laugh. “The unpredictable weather. Once we had a monsoon so bad we were confined to the house for a week. My poor husband-” she broke off suddenly, halfway between melancholic reminiscence, and the stark realisation (which brought on renewed guilt), that she hadn’t thought of Lawrence in a long time. 

She took a shuddering breath and fell silent.

“What was he like? Your husband?” Spiros asked over the harmonies being swung around the trees by the love birds overhead. 

She looked at him. She often wondered if he felt inferior to the ghost of her husband. She had always hoped not. But now he was just looking at her with curiosity, with love and it almost made her chest burst. She smiled, her mind drifting over a million memories.

“He was … larger than life. Funny, silly. But … he was kind, compassionate and sweet. Now I think about it, I think Gerry got his love of animals from him,” she said, watching gulls dipping into the sea. “He brought home a stray puppy once, simply because it followed him home. Just a few months after Gerry’s second birthday I think. And that’s how we ended up with Roger.” 

Spiros watched her, enamored and amazed that she’d had a passionate and loving marriage. He’d have to be stone dead not to compare it to his own lukewarm marriage. Or maybe it was the lure of Mrs Durrell that made everyone fall so hard. 

“He was a lot like you actually,” she said picking at a grass blade. Spiros grinned and she looked up, a smile of her own spreading across her face faster than the rising blush.

“We have both lov-” his words were bitten off by the flash in the sky and then the cracking of thunder. Their attention was dragged out to the horizon where the black clouds had gathered very quickly.

“Time to retreat,” Louisa said sadly as the pair scrambled their belongings in a desperate attempt to make it back up the hill and to the safety of her house before the rain fell. 

They were only a little way up the hill when the first big spatters came down. She pulled him under a large tree which offered minimal shelter. Her eyes shone with something that made his stomach somersault aggressively. She pulled him in as close as possible to bring him under the shelter of the canopy just as the heavens opened fully. Thunder split the sky in two and rain drove down relentlessly. It was so monstrous they couldn’t hear themselves think. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t care when, in public, where they could be seen by anyone, she leaned in and kissed him. He was mostly taken by surprise but recovered quickly and kissed her back.

He could taste the wine on her tongue, and on her lips as he ran his tongue along them. He dropped the picnic basket and put his hand on the tree trunk, just above her head, to steady himself. He pressed his body tight against her and she wondered if he’d take her right there, in the pouring rain. She shivered at the thought and wished he would. All too soon however, he pulled away, his breaths coming in heavy pants. His eyes were hot, burning through her and she felt her legs weaken.

“I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon!” she shouted over the din, tilting her head to the rain. He nodded slowly with a tiny smile.

“No,” he shouted back. She looked around the tree, taking in the hill, and chewed her lip. She took delight in that it still tasted of him. The hill however, was not that long. They could reach the house in just a few minutes if they ran. She wasn’t sure if her legs would work however, not with him pressed so close against her. 

They could stay there forever, she surmised. Or at least until the rain stopped. But that could be hours and she felt a very real need to feel him moving inside her, and it was evident he was not one for public exhibitionism.

“I think we better run!” she said and he nodded, shrugging off his jacket to give her. She took it wordlessly, touched by his selflessness. He bent to grab the basket and the pair ran, hand in hand up the hill, shrieking as the water ran down their backs. Thunder rumbled like a growling wolf as the house grew larger on the horizon. 

Spiros’ jacket and the picnic blanket he held over his own head, proved little shelter from the torrential rain and by the time they’d burst into the kitchen, Louisa’s hair had lost its curls under the weight of the water droplets clinging to them. She hung his jacket on the back of the chair and looked at him with an urge to laugh. His clothes were wet through and his hair stuck out in strange angles.

“Hang on, I’ll get some towels.”

The cold was staved off by the roaring fire and the sound of pounding rain could only be heard when they paused to listen. Their wet clothes had finally started to dry. And the room was warm, incredibly warm, Louisa thought. But not because of the fire. She didn’t care that her hair was getting messed up by the cushion, or that it’d dried in all the wrong directions. All she cared about was the wanton desire flooding through her. And the man moving expertly between her thighs. 

One of Spiros’ hands was braced on the arm of the sofa to bear his weight, the other cupped her face as his lips worked against hers. She cried into his mouth every time he pushed into her with unrelenting passion. He drew her nearer to the edge, his heart pounding in his throat. Her breath came fast and shallow and when he pushed her over the edge she clenched around him, a small cry ripped from her throat. She was still trembling just when he was ready to follow her down the rabbit hole of pleasure. But his foot got caught in the blanket that draped around them. 

He felt himself falling because he could comprehend and Louisa was falling with him. She let out a yelp as they landed on the floor with a thud. 

“Are you okay?” Spiros said, shifting his weight off of her. 

She instantly missed his warmth, the feel of his weight bearing down on her. She couldn’t speak coherently so simply nodded, letting out a shaky laugh. At that, he let out a loud laugh before leaning down and resting his forehead against hers. 

Oh how he wanted to stay here forever, making love in front of the fireplace. But he couldn’t. He had to go back to a wife he cared for, but couldn’t love. But, he thought, tonight was not tomorrow and he opened his eyes, taking in her post-coital glow, her haphazard appearance. He didn’t think he had ever seen a more beautiful sight. All of it made him fall in love over and over again. He played with a stray lock of her hair as she absentmindedly ran her hand sup his forearms, resting on his broad shoulders. 

“I love you,” he said, swallowing her response. He wasn’t sure if she had recovered from the first time until she pulled at him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He smiled against her mouth and slowed his rhythm. He pushed her to the edge again and again, pulling her back just in time to stop her tumbling over it until she almost couldn’t bear it. She wanted to draw him as close into her as humanly possible and she felt like she was beginning to fold in on herself. He pulled away from her mouth and kissed her neck. Tasted her pounding pulse with his tongue.

When he was sure she couldn’t take anymore teasing, he didn’t pull her back and she came with a guttural, drawn out mewl. He let himself follow and groaned against her neck.

Louisa ran her hands through his hair, kissing his temple as he rested his head on her shoulder. Their chests heaved with laboured breathing and for a few moments their panting, the crackling fire and the now softened patter of rain on the roof were the only sounds in the world. 

When the haze dissipated, Spiros reasoned that he should go home, his wife would surely suspect something if he didn’t. But he didn’t think he could physically leave Louisa, even if he wanted to. Couldn’t leave her like a cheap mistress when she was so much more. He rolled onto his back and Louisa felt a flicker of fear, that he was going to leave but he didn’t and she rested her head against his shoulder. 

Every ounce of common sense in their minds screamed that he shouldn’t stay, that if he did, something catastrophic would happen. But Spiros pulled her close to him, instead choosing to, just for one night, believe this was their life, that she was his wife, his was their home. The thought carried him into pleasant sleep.

-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#- 

“No, I told you, if that goat has peed on my bed one more time-” Margo was arguing with, presumably Gerry, as the four children strolled into the kitchen. If they had been surprised by Spiros’ car outside, they didn’t show it. Gerry pulled up a chair.

“Morning!” he declared as Louisa pushed a plate of toast in front of him.

“Morning,” she said, over her tea.

“Morning Gerrys,” Spiros greeted with a grin. For at least a few minutes more, he could pretend this was his family. 

“How was Theo’s? Presumably drier than here,” Louisa mused.

“Yeah it was actually,” Margo said as she hugged Spiros from behind briefly and then slid in her own seat. 

“How’s Hugh?” Leslie asked stroppily. Louisa caught Spiros’ eye before frowning.

“Hugh?” she repeated and Larry stepped in.

“I told them about wanting to cook Hugh dinner… remember? For your date?” he said, raising his eyebrows. She feigned realisation.

“Oh yes! Of course, Hugh’s fine,” she lied.

“Well Durrells, I must depart,” Spiros announced with a jubilant smile. he got up and, following a chorus of farewells, began to walk away.

“I’ll see you out,” Louisa followed him, leaving the children to eat breakfast alone.

Leslie followed his mother and Spiros from the room with his eyes, wondering why, if Mother cooked for Hugh, wasn’t he there but Spiros was? He frowned as the beginning seeds of realisation were sown.


	9. "Are you sleeping with her?"

“You really didn’t need to do this you know,” Florence bounced her toddler in her arms as she followed Louisa into the kitchen. She put the baby in the pram and turned to her jubilant friend.

“Oh come on Florence, you let me miss your birthday! So I’m making up for it.”

Louisa gathered the plates she was seeking and held them tight against her as she eyed her friend.

“I let everyone miss my birthday,” Florence chuckled, grabbing glasses and then they were back in the basking warmth of the sinking Corfian sun. 

The generator whirred in the background, providing power to the little fairy lights that Spiros had constructed several years previously. They were not only a pleasant reminder of his constant presence in the house and her life, but they also made the plain patio look magical.

Florence slid onto Doctor Petrides’ lap and handed him a glass of wine.

“No, I think I want to examine the parental responsibilities of the toad next,” Gerry was rambling as he appeared around the side of the house, Theo was beside him, listening intently. He stopped.

“Well now Gerry, that sounds riveting! I know exactly where to find us some toads,” he let out a boyish giggle and Gerry grinned up at the mentor who had become his best friend.

“Excellent.” The paid took their spaces at the large table and Louisa smiled at the people around it; her children, and her extended family. How far they’d all come.

Crunching gravel and the familiar horn tore her attention away with a barely suppressed smile.

“That’ll be Spiros and Sven,” she said and trotted off to greet them.

“She seems a lot happier in Spiros’ presence lately,” Florence mused as she slid from her husband’s lap and into her own seat beside him.

“Yes, he’s been around a lot more lately. More than Hugh in fact,” Margo mused, watching her reflection in the window behind Florence’s head. “My hair looks awful!” She tried to pat it down but it sprung up disastrously.

“Spiros! Sven!” Louisa tried to show equal excitement to see them both but Sven was far from offended by the way her eyes sparkled more for the Greek. He knew all about forbidden love, he recognised the pain of separation, and the jubilation of subsequent reunions.

He greeted her with a kiss to the cheek and went to join the small party.

“Hello,” Spiros said with a small smile.

“Hello,” Louisa mirrored. A butterfly had awoken in her chest.

“I like your lights,” he teased and she turned to look at them as if she’d never seen them before.

“Oh yes, well this very interesting taxi driver put them in for me,” she shrugged. A small smile tugged at her mouth. He looked at her from beneath his eyelashes.

“Interesting huh?” he said and she grinned.

“Very handsome too,” she smirked and he let out a laugh. Oh how that conversation seemed so far away, before all the turmoil. Before they’d finally given into how they felt about each other and then been torn apart. But now, they were back together, albeit in a limited capacity. 

He pulled her to the side so they were blocked from the prying eyes of the party guests and he laughed, right up until the moment his lips touched hers in a chaste greeting. She held his shoulders and his arms snaked around her waist. When he could no longer breathe, he pulled away.

“Let’s go join this party,” he whispered and walked into her garden party with her trailing behind. 

“Oh god, you didn’t bring your accordion did you Sven?” Larry was asking as they reached the table, his face contorted in mock horror.

“Oh damn, I left it in my other jacket,” Sven countered, offering one of his small smiles. 

Larry smirked in response and gulped down the wine, demanding Leslie pour him another. His brother looked at him like he was dirt and slid the bottle over. He was no one’s monkey! What Larry couldn’t know was that Leslie had seen Daphne and the baby in town and instead of being a man, he’d run away, scuttling back into the shadows to avoid being seen and to avoid facing up to the reality of what he’d lost. He gulped down his own wine.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday Florence. I’d have brought something,” Theo said from the other end of the table. Florence waved him off.

“No one knew,” Louisa chimed in with a delicate laugh, looking from her friends, to the lover beside her. Theo watched the way she looked at Spiros with interest. They were becoming worse a hiding whatever it was that lay between them. Regardless, he smiled before turning back to the doctor’s wife.

“Well I’ll know for next year,” he said and her face dropped.

“Oh god, please don’t. I don’t need a constant reminder that I’m getting older!” Florence protested and the doctor shook his head.

“Nonsense my love, getting old is a part of life… like death,” he said. Everyone frowned at him. Larry nodded thoughtfully into his glass. Hmm. The man’s reassuring declarations certainly left a lot to be desired. “And you are only getting more beautiful with age.” That was more like it. She leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Very nice darling, but not quite Plato just yet,” she teased.

“Animals don’t care about age,” Gerry announced wistfully, “though usually the younger… the …. better…” trailing off, his eyes roaming the staring faces and he fell silent. Theo patted his shoulder.

“Anyways, Happy Birthday Mrs Petrides,” Spiros announced, holding his glass up. Everyone turned to him, then to Florence, their glasses all equally raised.

Louisa tried not to think about the feel of Spiros’ other arm on her back, or the hand on her forearm, drawing lazy circles. It seemed she wasn’t the only one to notice, though the others remained silent about it. She leaned into him slightly, spurred on by the wine pouring through her veins and it felt like they were a real couple, just for a few minutes.

XX

“So what’s going on there?” Florence pulled into the seat beside Larry who was almost half cut. His lolling head followed her gaze to his mother. She was stood, in her favourite position at the wall, looking at the water. Spiros was stood next to her, his hand unmistakably on the small of her back and their heads were close together.

Larry tried to light a cigarette but gave up when his wavering vision wouldn’t allow it to stay still.

“I’m not actually sure,” he admitted with remarkable clarity given how much wine he’d drunk. Somewhere in the distance a guitar played, providing a soundtrack to the evening’s festivities. “I know she turned Hugh down, I assumed she didn’t want to shackle herself to him.” He wasn’t being entirely honest; he knew Spiros was sleeping with his mother but it wasn’t his secret to share. Not when the fallout would destroy many lives.

“Do you think they’ll make a go of it?” Florence leaned in. Larry tried to formulate a diplomatic answer but the fog of intoxication blocked any sensible thought.

“I bloody hope so, it got too hard to see her so heartbroken.” he blurted out. Florence bowed her head. “Crying and drinking all the time. Now she seems happy.” 

“I told her Hugh wasn’t right,” Florence said wistfully. She watched her friend as she laughed at something Spiros said. 

“Hugh?” Leslie said stumbling into the conversation. Larry tried to roll his eyes. “Had too much to drink eh?” 

“Piss of Leslie,” Larry snapped as Leslie flopped into the bench. 

As if by saying his name three times would make him appear by magic, a sports car ambled down the road, a bunch of roses on the passenger seat. The loved up couple didn’t seem to notice, despite everyone else rising to meet the intruder. Spiros kissed Louisa’s hand and Larry jumped out of his seat to try and intercept. 

“Hugh what are you doing here?” he said, trying to push the older man backwards to stop him infiltrating the party. But even sober he was as weak as a mouse. Hugh looked over his shoulder and his expression soured. He had seen Louisa and witnessed the way she and Spiros were utterly lost in each other.

“So you’re sleeping with him too?” Hugh shouted and the couple tore apart. Louisa’s chest started to heave in and out. This couldn’t be happening.

“Hugh-” she started, moving out of Spiro’s embrace. She approached the olive farmer and Spiros followed closely behind. Only he and Larry stood between the two former lovers and Larry wasn’t sure he’d ever forget the expression of Spiros’s face; one of vehement anger and complete, utter hatred of another person.

“I should have known, the charms of Spiros Americanos! I thought you were immune, so you said, actually,” Hugh let out a sardonic laugh, thrusting his finger at Louisa. She felt the tears pricking at her eyes before she realised she was crying.

“Hugh-Stop!” she cried, trying to move between her defenders and her attacker but neither would stand aside.

“I really think you need to leave,” Larry muttered, suddenly sober. His hand touched Hugh’s chest, holding him back.

“No, no, why shouldn’t I stay and tell everyone what a slut your mother is?” Hugh roared. 

Suddenly he was pulled away from Larry by Spiros who gripped his collar in his fist. He cut the tirade off with a punch to the face.

“You son of a bitch,” he spat in the Englishman’s face. Hugh went down easily, having not expected to be hit by such a force.

Louisa looked around at the various shocked faces of her friends and family. She was horrified, panic taking over her and her eyes swimming. Spiros felt arms pulling him off of Hugh and he wasn’t surprised to see Leslie, Theo and Doctor Petrides pulling him away; an ox, let alone a single man, couldn’t pry him away from his target. With effort he was however hauled off and Hugh rolled onto his knees. He was only half up when Larry hit him, pushing him back into the dirt. 

Larry who was evidently not used to bare knuckle boxing like Spiros, shook his hand furiously, his face contorted in muted pain. Hugh pulled himself up, sweeping a hand through his dirty blonde hair in an attempt to soothe the disarray caused by being punched twice.

“Leave, and don’t come back!” Spiros pulled free of his captors and came at Hugh again. He was pleased to see him flinch. Hugh wiped at the blood on his lips and spat at the ground near his rival’s foot. 

“You were never worth it,” he said to Louisa and he turned away. 

Larry ran to the doctor, professing to have broken his hand whereas Spiros didn’t seem to mind that his knuckles had split. Louisa couldn’t breathe, someone reached out for her but she couldn’t hear them; it was as if she were underwater. And everything blurred, like time stood still. Her name was called but she couldn’t look at the person calling her. Her legs starting moving before she was aware she was walking away from the house.

“Louisa!” Florence shouted after her but the tears had become sobs and she couldn’t bear to be near any of them. Spiros reached out to take her arm as she passed him but she pulled it away. He gave the shell-shocked guests a sheepish look before he took after her.

“Louisa!” he called but she wouldn’t stop. She was almost running but he could hear her sobs from even fifteen paces behind and he hated Hugh more than ever. “Louisa wait!”

She swiped at the low branches that hung in her way as the kumquat grove closed in on her, grabbing at her clothes and slowing her down enough that he could catch up. He grabbed her arm and spun her to face him.

“It’s okay,” he told her sincerely but she was an Englishwoman, one that had been respectable once upon a time. What would her husband have said? The thought made her feel sick. And even now she couldn’t bear to meet Spiros’ gaze.

“No it’s not!” she protested. “What will everyone think?!”

He reached out for her and she let him. 

“Everything will be okay,” he said, taking her face in his hands and brushing her tears away. He pulled her into him and held her as he had once before when she had cried over Hugh.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“I can’t tell you how much of a relief it is having Margo at the surgery.” Florence was trying to make her feel better by acting normal but none of it felt normal and Louisa wanted to go home. She hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. “Louisa?”

She turned to face her friend with an innocent expression, as if she’d been listening the whole time. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, twisting her fingers together and chewing her lip.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said have you?” Florence tilted her head to one side and Louisa bowed her head in shame.

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” she started, giving up with a shrug of one shoulder. 

“I knew something was going on…” Florence said changing tactic. She had hoped Louisa would open up, talk to her but it seemed she’d done the opposite. She’d closed herself down to everyone, including Spiros, if Larry was to be believed. “You were happy, and it was wonderful to see.” 

Louisa looked down. She certainly wasn’t happy now. She didn’t want to cry here, but she feared if this line of inquiry continued that she’d do just that.

“Can we talk about something else?” she said and Florence sighed, looking down at the small child she was pushing in the pram. 

“I just worry about you is all.” 

Her arm touched Louisa’s and earned her a small smile but too soon it was gone and Louisa turned to walk further into the throng of market dwellers but walked straight into somebody else. When she had recover she saw the woman was beautiful, dark haired and bright blue eyes. The Greek woman held her hands up before bending to pick up the items that had spilled out of Louisa’s basket. Florence was at her side, picking up various items that had rolled off in what would ordinarily be a comedic moment, had it not been sombre. 

“Sygnomi, sygnomi,” the woman was saying but Louisa’s Greek hadn’t extended far and she smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sorry.. I don’t …unders-” she was saying when the woman cut her off.

“Oh you are English,” she said, handing over the basket. Her eyes had widened and Louisa was sure she’d seen something akin to recognition flicker across her olive skin. Louisa smiled again and nodded.

“Yes, I’m sorry, my Greek is… limited,” she confessed pitifully.

“Well no matter,” the woman said with a tight smile. “Good day.”

Even when she flounced away Louisa couldn’t help but admire her beauty. Florence came up beside her, breaking her from the trance. 

“I recognise her,” she said. “But I don’t know why.”

Her musings trailed off as Louisa watched the woman approach a man with his back to them. Two children that Louisa had already met, buzzed around them and she started to feel sick. There was no mistaking the man even from this distance, and even from behind. 

The woman snaked an arm around his back and Louisa tried to avert her glance, tried to ignore the biting jealousy threatening to erupt. She had no right to be jealous. She was not his wife. It was not her he was cheating on and yet somehow eight long months of progress had suddenly been reversed as she watched Spiros’ wife stroke the back of his head, lean in and kiss him on the cheek. Then she leaned in and kissed on fully on the mouth.

Spiros pulled away from her, following her playful gaze across the market. He couldn’t not notice Louisa. Even if there were a million people standing between them, he’d recognise the very essence of her anywhere. He was torn. 

He took a step away from his wife, his natural instinct being to go to Louisa, to tell her it didn’t mean anything to him but a hand clamped on his forearm and drew him back to his responsibilities. His wife’s eyes were wet, burning with a mixture of sorrow, realisation and anger. He saw it in her face as she pushed past him to sweep their son’s hand into hers. She stormed off down the alleyways, pulling their son with them.

Spiros’ daughter looked to her father for guidance but when he didn’t look at her she sloped off after her mother and brother wordlessly. Spiros looked around for Louisa but he couldn’t see her.

“Papa,” Alexandria called and with a feeling of lead in his stomach, he followed her, wondering what lay in store for him at the end of the walk. His wife was too proud to air their dirty laundry in public but as they got closer to the house, Spiros could feel his head starting to hurt.

They reached the house in silence and when his wife told their children to go to their cousins’ and play, Spiros sighed. The thudding in his head had become a full headache and the first thing he did was grab a glass of water from the sink. Suddenly he was starting to get angry too.

Celena dumped her bag onto the table with more force than necessary, sending the fruit careening out of the fruit bowl.

“She’s pretty,” she finally said and Spiros froze, his hand on the tap, poised to refill his glass. “Are you sleeping with her?” 

His chest pounded and he figured he at least owed her the truth. He turned around, the glass forgotten on the side. His eyes met her and he didn’t have to say anything.

“I should have known. When you didn’t come the other night, I just knew you were with her,” she scoffed, her eyes watering furiously. She turned away and Spiros hated himself for the hurt he was causing everyone. “I thought you’d changed, when we got married.” Celena shook her head, trying not to let the tears consume her.

He frowned. “What?”

“Your womanising! Sleeping with everything that moved, every girl or woman who smiled at you!” she almost screamed and nausea built in his stomach.

“Celena…” he whispered. He should be reaching out for her telling her that he had changed, that it was all a mistake, a temporary relapse. But he couldn’t lie anymore, couldn’t deny what he felt and what Louisa was to him.

She let out a breath that was a half sob, half laugh.

“So this is why you’ve been so petulant since I returned from Athens?” she countered, her hand balled on her hip.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. He sounded cliched and he hated himself for it.

“I knew you were spending too much time with her! I told you!” she cried. Tears had started to break free. “And I left you because I told you to stop, didn’t I?”

“But then you came back!” he shouted, surprising even himself. She pulled back, her anger had been trumped by shock as the implication of his words sank in.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, clutching her stomach as she slid into the nearest seat, sobbing. Spiros turned and gripped the counter, his eyes roaming over the world outside. Pain pounded behind his eyes and he was sure he’d be sick.

“I can give you one last chance Spiros, I can’t keep doing this. Promise me you’ll stop seeing her,” she begged, cheeks sodden with tears, her eyes red and bloodshot. Spiros clenched his hands so tightly around the counter that his knuckles went white and threatened to crack open once more. He knew he should promise, for his children.

“I can’t do that,” he said into the sink. His wife jumped out of her seat, sending the chair tumbling over.

“You’re going to throw away your entire life? Your marriage? Your children?! For some … FLING?!” she screamed at his back. he whirled around to face her, a million thoughts running through his aching head. He wanted to say so many things but wasn’t sure how.

“Louisa. Her name is Louisa and I love her,” he heard himself say.

She stared at him, mouth agape for half a minute before she stormed into their bedroom. He didn’t follow her, though he thought he should. The sounds of banging and clattering came in time with the dripping tap and he thought his head might explode.

After several moments of painful reflection, she came thundering back out with two suitcases in her hand. he opened his mouth to protest, to tell her she couldn’t take his children to Athens again but as if she’d read his mind, she chucked the cases at his feet.

“Get out,” she said in a low voice.

“Celena,” he started.

“Get out!” she snapped and he picked up the cases and walked through the front door into the street. 

His car was parked outside, where it always was, but he couldn’t sleep in it. With a sigh he put the cases in the back and slid into the driver’s seat. Louisa hadn’t spoken to him since Hugh’s outburst and he had no money for the guesthouse. He could only think of one place he could go.


	10. "Oh Spiros,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louisa and Spiros are truly back to square one.

“Are you sure it is okay?” Spiros said. His expression was down beat and Theo, his heart as big as it was, waved off his concerns. 

“Of Course, I come and go a lot, so you’ll at least have the run of the place while you sort things out with your wife,” Theo said tentatively as he stepped aside, allowing his friend to enter the house.  
“There’s nothing to work out,” Spiros said pointedly, dragging his suitcase behind him. 

Theo couldn’t fail to understand him meaning. 

When Spiros walked into the living room, he stopped short, for Gerry sat on the sofa drinking lemonade with Roger curled at his feet, his back pack on the sofa beside him. He was desperately trying to pretend he hadn’t heard the conversation at the door, nor that he could see the suitcase in Spiros’ hands. 

“Hello Gerrys,” Spiros said with none of his usual jubilance. 

Gerry looked up from his glass as if only just noticing his presence. 

“Spiros! Hello!” he grinned awkwardly, relieved when Theo approached. 

“Sorry to leave you to settle in alone, but I promised Gerry I’d take him to find some exquisite Spotted Fritillaries,” Theo said, and Gerry stood up abruptly, causing Roger to jump onto his gangly legs. Spiros had no idea what they were but offered a small smile anyway. 

“It’s fine,” he said and when he they’d left he sank onto the loveseat, holding his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to do. Everything felt dirty and he suddenly wondered if his wife would pay Louisa a visit. That’d surely make things far worse than they already were. Did she know where she lived? If she didn’t, he was sure she could find out. The thought stuck heavily in his chest for the rest of the day. 

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x  
Louisa had not left the house since the party, certainly hadn’t even gone near Spiros’ house. She missed him, but everything felt different now. She had seen the way he had looked at his wife (or she thought she had) and now she realised anything they’d cultivated was fruitless, a passing whim that eventually would have had to yield to his marital obligations. To believe otherwise was delusional. 

She gulped down the gin she had nursed for half an hour. Her world had been split apart once more and this time there was nothing she could do to put it back together again. The sting of rejection, as she had watched the way his hand rested on his wife’s shoulder, was as fresh as the rejection she’d felt when he’d walked away nearly a year ago. 

She missed him. She wondered how he was doing, whether he was struggling like the night he told her his wife had left him, the first time. The night she realised she wanted him. Though now, she was sure she’d always wanted him but had simply shut it away. She had longed to kiss his pain away just as she longed for him to kiss hers away now. But it wasn’t going to happen. 

“Men,” she grumbled into her empty glass and poured another. 

“What wrong with you?” Lugaretzia asked from nowhere and Louisa jumped violently, almost dropping her glass. 

“Nothing Luga,” she said clutching her chest. Lugaretzia narrowed her eyes. 

“Men are all pigs, no?” she said, and Louisa looked at her with an amused smile. 

“Not all of them,” she explained but Luga only shrugged. Louisa watched her leave, the old woman’s head shaking at the “ridiculousness of the English” before returning her glance back to the sea. 

A warm breeze pulled at her hair and massaged her bones, but she felt cold, empty and hollow. The alcohol was rigorously rectifying that and providing her with an armour against the pain. She laid her head back, closing her eyes to the midday sun. 

“Devil child!” Lugaretzia hissed and Louisa looked abruptly around, spying Gerry darting around the other side of the house. She frowned and waited for him to come to her; inevitably he would when he was hungry. 

“Have you been digging in ditches again darling?” she asked when he finally appeared. His face was smeared with dirt, and his backpack had gained another tear. Roger flopped down under the tree, panting heavily. Gerry grinned until he saw the bottle of gin by his mother’s deckchair. Her easy demeanour was a result of intoxication, he surmised, rather than true happiness. Being an adult seemed like arduous work. Everyone was miserable. Except maybe Theo. 

“Not exactly,” he said. He leaned over her, blocking the sun and she screwed up her eyes to look at him. “I found some new butterflies though!” 

She nodded slowly, unable to share his enthusiasm for insects. He looked down at the half empty bottle and chewed his lip. He wondered if her sudden malaise was something to do with the reason Spiros was living at Theo’s. Another element of adulthood he was in no hurry to encounter. 

“Anyway… I hope it’s okay, but Galini and me are having dinner at Theo’s,” Gerry said, moving to walk away but she drew him back. 

“Galini?” she said, a small smile making its way across her face. He blushed and turned away from her. “You haven’t mentioned her in a while, I assumed…” 

“She’s been going to school on the mainland… but she’s back now so… anyway apparently Spiros is making some fabulous moussaka or something.”  
He was all but running away now, and he had reached the washing line before Louisa’s alcohol induced mind caught up with what he was saying. 

“Spiros?” she said, shriller than she’d have normally liked. Gerry screwed his face up before turning slowly to her. He'd forgotten Spiros' name was forbidden in the house. 

“Yeah… he erm… he’s living with Theo for a while I guess,” he said, taking off before he could see the way his mother’s mouth dropped open and all the warmth her drunkenness had induced, was stripped away. 

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x  
Spiros pulled open the door expecting one of Theo’s academic friends, or some patient wanting an x-ray out of office hours. He hadn’t expected to see Louisa standing on the doorstep. She wouldn’t meet his gaze at first and he watched painfully as she twisted her bag in her hands. When she spoke, she smelt of gin and his heart ached. 

“Gerry told me you’d moved in here,” she said, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes. 

He hadn’t seen her since she’d seen him and his wife together and she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. He wondered if she had missed him, as he had missed her. Wondered if she had died under the weight of not being able to talk to him, like he was dying. She didn’t look as dishevelled as he was sure he looked, but she didn’t quite look as prim as she would normally. He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay, that he would take care of her, that he’d love her until the day he was buried. And she wanted to tell him she missed him, missed his very presence in her life. But neither did anything and they hated themselves for it. Her brown eyes used to be so full of sparkle, full of happiness but now they were dull and pained. 

“My wife knows.” Now it was his turn to avoid her gaze. The past eight months might as well have never happened. Now they truly were back to square one and the pain blossoming in her chest was threatening to consume her. “About us, that’s why she did what she did. At the market, I think.” 

She let out a strangled, muted cry and a hand flew to her mouth. Everything had gone wrong and now it was reaching nuclear levels of catastrophe. 

“Oh god,” she murmured. 

He didn’t offer anything else and he couldn’t know of the struggle going on inside her head. Just like she couldn’t know of the struggle inside his. He wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. 

This was never meant to happen, she thought. But then, what did you expect to happen?! You could carry on recklessly and put off the consequences until tomorrow?  
“Did Hugh tell her?” she could barely speak. She avoided his eyes, unable to bear seeing the accusation in them. This was all her fault. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured with a shrug. She wanted to run away but something grounded her, though neither spoke. Spiros rubbed a hand over his hair. He knew she would blame herself and he hated that he didn’t contradict her, couldn’t force the words out. If Louisa blamed herself, there was nothing he could say to make her feel otherwise. “Anyway, she err… how you say, throws me out.” 

The pain in her chest made breathing difficult. 

“Oh Spiros,” she said because she didn’t know how to tell him how sorry she was. It had become her ‘go to’ phrase when faced with the unexpected, and sometimes devastating events in their lives over the past year. He shifted from foot to foot and neither knew what to say, what to do. Things had been on such even ground for a while and Louisa had been approaching true happiness. But now the ground was quaking beneath her feet and she could see the pain of separation in his eyes. Not separation from her; she was neither naïve nor narcissistic to think that. But she could see what being separated from his family was doing to him. And it was killing her. Except she couldn’t know the pain of separation extended only to his children, and she couldn’t know that he missed her just as deeply. 

Louisa cleared her throat. She felt sick. How had she become a homewrecker? It was the kind of behaviour her aunt and her husband would be disgusted by and the thought almost brought her to her knees. 

“Please let me know if there’s anything my family and I can do,” she said around the lump growing rapidly in her throat. She bracketed the words with friendly charm – as much as she could in that moment; he needed a friend, not a lover. 

She patted him on the forearm because it felt like the most amount of physical contact she could handle. He almost wept when her palm grazed his arm and even through the cotton he could feel her warmth. But instead he only nodded without any hint of a smile. 

When she walked away from him, he desperately wanted to call out for her, wanted to tell her it didn’t change anything, but they were fractured now. Perhaps this was truly how it was supposed to be.


	11. "He needs his family,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end!  
> Louisa makes the hardest sacrifice she's ever had to make.

"It was my fault," Spiros said darkly into his teacup. 

Louisa scratched at her old kitchen table with her index finger. A frown contorted her pretty face. "She already had...suspicions. When I tried to follow you at the market, I guess she worked it out. I couldn't lie anymore." He shrugged, and his glance met hers. The intensity of it made her shift in her seat. "She said I could stay if ...if I never saw you again." 

Her heart thudded so hard against her throat she was sure he'd hear it in the silence. She wanted to cry. He looked so desolate, yet his eyes held a passionate fire. Louisa didn’t trust herself to speak and picked up her teacup to occupy herself. She sipped it and the hot liquid slid down her throat, but it had none of the numbing qualities the sherry or gin held. "I told her I couldn’t do that, so now she refuses me to see my children." 

Her eyes grew blurry with unshed tears. 

"Oh Spiros," there is was again, her conciliatory phrase. "I never meant for any of this to happen." 

He looked at her with an expression she couldn't read. 

"I don't think it was ever going to end any other way." 

The nausea rose again. She picked desperately at the edge of the table, pulling off a splinter before trying to replace it again. 

"It had to end like this Louisa," he said. It was the first time he'd said her name in as long as either could remember. 

"Yes," she whispered. 

"I just... I miss my children." 

"I know," her voice sounded weak. 

"So, what now?" He asked, replacing his cup on the table and clasping his hands around it. 

"I don't know," she said, raising her eyes to look at him. She wished she hadn't. 

Louisa didn't want to be the first to put her cards on the table, too afraid of getting her fragile heart broken again, too terrified of discovering that the trauma of them leaving again had reminded Spiros of his honour, or worse, his love for his wife. 

She wanted however, to tell him she loved him. And he wanted to tell her that ti didn't change anything for them. But neither bore their inner thoughts and both would go back to wondering just what the other felt and thought. 

How full circle they'd come – unable to talk to one another, separated by the pain they no doubt shared. 

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x 

She didn't know enough Greek to understand the slurs or whisperings about her as she traversed the town, but she recognised the looks, the people pointing and staring. Walking into the market square was excruciatingly awkward and she wanted nothing more than to run and hide. However, Louisa was a grown woman, an adult, and vowed to endure it. She had made her bed, she surmised. But when the first stall refused to service her order, her skin flushed red and hot. She blinked back tears. She had just become accepted, no longer just the foreign outsider, now she was not only a foreign outsider but a homewrecking foreign outsider at that. 

Other stall holders shunned her also but with an air of English propriety, she held her head up and refused to bow under the weight of it. Not in public at least. She managed to gather items from stallholders who either didn't know of her, or they didn't care, and all but scurried off home. And when she was back in the safety of her four walls she decided she'd have to live her life as a hermit, sending the children out for food, whilst she hid away for the rest of her life. 

But, she thought sadly, what kind of life was that? So, it had been with the weight of all she'd suffered, and all the damage she'd caused, that she first considered returning to England. 

"Well I'm not going!" Larry said, guffawing, with folded arms. Louisa wanted to smack his face. 

"Me neither," added Leslie, his lower lip jutting out petulantly 

"Going where?" Gerry asked. He had walked into the living room without anyone seeing. He was looking down at the book in his hand, Theo's no doubt, but his attention was drawn to the sombre expressions on his brothers' faces, and the angry one on his mother's. 

"Mother wants to drag us back to England," Larry said without taking his eyes from Louisa. Gerry dropped the book down to his side, turning to his mother, open mouthed. 

"But we can't leave!" he sputtered, shock and surprise preventing any reasonable argument forming. "The-the... we... we can't." 

Larry dramatically rolled his eyes. 

"Oh, for God's sake!" Louisa hissed, turning away from her insolent children. She chewed her lip. "Well, as you two are of age, you're lost causes but Margo and Gerry are underage and therefore we'll have to leave you two behind." 

Even in that moment, everyone wondered whether the threat would be realised. Larry, having lived alone before, simply brushed it off. Leslie, however started to wane, feeling the safety net his mother held beneath him, start to evaporate at just the thought of her leaving. A look at Larry hardened his resolve; he could always mooch off him. Gerry screwed up his face and stamped his foot, drawing a look of rage from his mother. Margo sat up from the sofa. 

"Well that's fine by me, there's nothing keeping me here anyway," she sid miserably. Her sudden appearance startled Leslie who held a hand to his chest. 

"Do you always sneak around?" he snapped. Margo frowned at him. 

"Ahh there you are Miss Havisham, I wondered where you'd gotten to," Larry added smugly but everyone looked blankly at him. He rolled his eyes and dropped his hands from his hips. "Great Expectations. Dickens!" 

Louisa opened her mouth in a silent 'oh' and just like so many of the family arguments, Larry had broken the impasse with his attempt to educate his relatives. 

"Dickens schmickens. It's all Greek to me," Margo said. 

Larry growled and stomped out of the room. 

"Heathens!" he shot back. "And I'm not going back to bloody England. And you can bloody piss off too!" 

The sound of a goat bleating saved Louisa from believing he was talking to her. Leslie looked defiantly at her, his brow furrowed like a child. Her anger was dissolving into desperation and she opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head, turning to follow his brother, though no doubt, where Larry had retreated to his typewriter, Leslie would retreat to his guns. 

Louisa was left looking down at her youngest child's heartbroken face. 

"I don't want to leave mum," he said, clutching the book tightly in his hand. Now what was she going to do? Of course, Gerry would get over it eventually, but could she leave her eldest two behind? She chewed her cheek and swept a hand over his hair, brushing the overgrown fringe back. 

"I thought you loved it here anyway," Margo chimed in. 

"I do but..." A lump had risen in Louisa's throat, but she refused to cry in front of them. "Well it was all going to come to an end eventually, darling." 

Margo shrugged and said, "makes no difference to me." She drew her knees up and Louisa looked over her daughter curiously. Oh, how she'd grown up recently. She knew Margo was as heartbroken as she was over their respective failed love affairs, but Margo wasn't running away from her problems. 

When had Margo become more grown up than she was? But then, Margo didn't have to see Zoltan every day on the island, swanning around with his family. She wondered if Spiros had gone grovelling back to his wife yet. The thought only darkened her mood. 

"I think Spiros will be pretty upset, he might refuse to let us go," Margo said. She'd meant it light heartedly, but Gerry closed his eyes for even he knew by now that Spiros was a forbidden topic in the household. Though he had to admit, he was curious with how things stood with the taxi driver. Louisa ground her teeth and Gerry immediately received his answer.  
"It's not up to him Margo. He has his own family," she said. 

Gerry gulped, things hadn't gone so well then. Now she had adopted a strengthened resolve at getting as far away from this island as possible, just as she had started to weaken. When she stormed out declaring, "they were leaving and that was that," Gerry looked at his sister who just shrugged at his irritated expression. 

Then two things happened rather unexpectedly, though one took a while to materialise. The plans to leave for England, though not finalised were being accelerated with the help of Theo. Once, when he had been her best friend, Louisa would have asked for Spiros' help and she was sure he'd have gone out of his way to help her. Now? Now he might as well be the wreck of the Titanic, laying at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean and completely unreachable. 

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- 

Perhaps that's what led her to a door she'd only been to once before. When she knocked her hand quivered and her stomach squeezed. She wished desperately that she'd had that sherry before she'd left but it was too late. The netting was pulled aside and a woman's face appeared. It was gone in an instant, but Louisa had already memorised every inch of it. The door was wrenched open and she swallowed the rising nausea. 

"What do you want?" her English was very good, Louisa mused, just as it was the first time they met. 

"I need to talk to you" 

Celena crossed her arms and leant against the doorframe. Her full lips were pursed, and an eyebrow arched in disbelief. 

Louisa once again, couldn't fail to notice her beauty and her breath caught. She was not prone to feeling insecure or insignificant, but she also was acutely aware of how she paled in comparison. 

Celena considered the request and finally stood aside, allowing the 'other woman' to enter her home. It was much cleaner since the last time she was there, and it smelt better. 

'Because I love you,' he'd said to her, in the very spot his wife stood facing her now. The thought made her feel sick and her legs weakened. Spiros' wife's demeanour softened only slightly once they were inside and Louisa was surprised to see their son playing on the floor, their daughter at the table. 

"Hello," the pair chimed pleasantly, with little smiles and Louisa saw Spiros in every fibre of them. She couldn't help but smile back as she echoed "yassas" at them. 

"Do you want tea?" Celena drew her attention back to the unsavouriness. She tried to decline, unable to bear accepting the woman's hospitality. "Well I'm making it anyway, it'll only go to waste if I alone drink it."  
The tone was a little hostile and so Louisa acquiesced, sinking into the nearest chair at the table. A cup of tea was placed in front of her and she watched tendrils of steam rise off it.  
Celena barked something in Greek to her children, who hastily rose from their positions and trotted out the house with little "bye"s. When they'd gone, Celena sank into the chair adjacent to Louisa. The pair sipped their tea in a silence thick enough to put a machete through. 

"So, Mrs Durrell, what is it you wish to talk about?" The question was levelled in a way that told her Celana knew already how this conversation was about to go. It didn't make it any easier. 

"I know you told Spiros to stay away from my family-" 

"Not your family, just you," Celena corrected, pointedly. That hurt, but Louisa knew she deserved it. 

"Right." If she had any misconceptions this would be easy, they would quickly be dispelled. "Well... I know he refused..." 

She paled under the icy gaze of her love rival. 

"Yes, foolish man!" Celena said, pushing her tea away and leaning back in her chair. Louisa felt her head nodding. 

"I've come to tell you... I'm returning to England," she said and Celena's mouth fell open. "I'm not sure when, exactly, my children are proving to be a bit of a roadblock. But I will be going." 

Even as the words were spoken, a heavy ache fell over Louisa's chest. Regret was already bubbling. 

"You're running away?" Celena said and she was unsure whether it was said with scorn, or whether she was just stating the truth. 

"I... I suppose so. I don't want Spiros to throw his whole life away because of...whatever infatuation we have with one another. He-" She swallowed hard. "He needs his family... he needs you." 

The words were amongst some of the hardest she'd ever had to say in her life. His wife's face softened, and she brushed at non-existent dust on the table. 

"Is that what you want?" she asked, and Louisa faltered. 

"What I want, and what is right, are different things," she replied truthfully, eyes beginning to shine. "Spiros is … too proud to tell you how he feels but I know he's miserable without his children and if me being here is an obstacle then.... I'll remove myself." 

"You'd sacrifice your own happiness for him to go back to his life?" When Louisa raised her glance to the other woman, she was surprised to see tears. "Perhaps I underestimated you, Mrs Durrell." 

Louisa rose out of the chair; the conversation was over, and she now had a desperate urge to be as far away as possible from this house. 

"He's staying with Theo Stephanides," she said around her sorrow and walked through the front door, back into the street. 

With every step it became harder not to cry but she only lost her hardened resolve when she'd managed to retreat 500 yards. She dived into an alley, pressing her back firm against the wall and clutched her heaving chest. Sobs tore their way free with strangled gasps and tears poured down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away.


	12. "She's leaving, Spyridon."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Louisa is leaving for England. Will Spiros' wife go back to him? Will Spiros stop Louisa?

The knocking wouldn’t stop. Spiros had no idea just how many visitors Theo would have in just the one month he’d been there. He almost wished he’d gone to his uncle’s. Almost. He watched a mosquito crawling along the ceiling; Theo would answer the door soon, he was sure. But when the knocking persisted, and Theo showed no signs of answering, Spiros let out a low growl and rolled off the small bed. He didn’t bother to pull his shirt together as he stumbled through the house, wondering where the hell Theo was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bumped into him but, he surmised, that could be because of the alcohol he’d been putting into his body lately. Perhaps it was for the best, for he was never in the best of moods and he’d hate to throw the other man’s hospitality back at him. 

He pulled open the door, about to complain but the vision of his wife stopped not only the words in his head, but the breath in his lungs. 

“Celena,” he said because it was the only word he could formulate. 

She offered a smile that lit up her beautiful face and he was momentarily reminded of their wedding day, a day that might not have happened had he met Louisa first. 

“May I?” she asked, peering around him. He lazily followed her glance and hastily stood aside. 

“Of course.” 

She looked at the various jars and tanks littering every surface with widened eyes. She’d never been inside Mr Stefanides’ house, didn’t even really know him. Another reminder of how she and Spiros had lived separate lives for far too long now. 

“Would you like tea?” He cut through her melancholy and she whirled to face him. 

She lowered herself onto the sofa with a refined elegance he thought long buried by motherhood and island life. 

“No, thank you,” she only said. A pregnant silence descended, split only by the ticking of a clock and the occasional splashing of one of Theo’s many creatures. Spiros was too weary to find out which. 

He fiddled with the edge of the sofa, staring at the fraying edge. 

“Oh Spiros, how did we get here?” She looked up at him and he opened his mouth to apologise, to perhaps pledge to never see the Durrell family again. But he didn’t, because he couldn’t. 

He could never cut them out of his life, even if he and Louisa were doomed. He loved them, all of them, as if they were his own. 

But he had a family and he had allowed it to be broken apart, for the second time. And that was abhorrent. He sank onto the sofa beside her, physically separated by inches. Mentally, by miles. 

“How are the children?” he asked, heart pounding against his ribs. Oh, how he desperately wished he could see them. 

“They’re okay, they miss you.” 

She smiled. Only slight, but it was there, watery though it was. This brought a smile to Spiros’ face. 

“I miss them too,” he choked. It felt so good to talk about them. It almost felt like the old days between them, when they had been happy. But the smile for the past slid from his face. They weren’t happy now. 

“Celena...I really am sorry. For everything, I never meant for any of this to happen.” 

When he saw the tears trickle down her cheeks, he suddenly felt like the worst person in the world. She reached for his hand and he squeezed her fingers in his. 

“Do you love me Spiros?” she asked, and he opened his mouth, but no words formed. “Do you love me enough to sacrifice your own happiness?” He felt sick. “Because-” she swiped at the tears. “Because I don’t think I do. Maybe once but...we’re so different now and I don’t think I love you enough to sacrifice my own happiness, not like Louisa.” 

His head snapped up. “Louisa?” 

She nodded furiously against the tidal wave of tears. She sucked in a breath and looked at him.  
“She came to see me, last week. She loves you far more than I think I ever have. I realise that now. I’ve been thinking about nothing else for a week and... I realise now.” 

Spiros’ breath came in sharp, short bursts and his vision blurred. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Celena tilted her head to the side. 

“Spiros, I hate what you did. I hate that you split our family up and I hate that you care more for another woman than you’ve ever cared for me but I’m not blind. And I’m not stupid. She told me how miserable you are without the children, and how you need your family. And she was right. But you don’t need me.” She let out a watery laugh. “You need her. But you need your children too and I know it wouldn’t be right to deny you them.” 

He couldn’t quieten the white noise in his head as it got louder and louder until it was screaming, and he couldn’t breathe. 

“I-... What....I -” he opened and closed his mouth several times. 

“She’s leaving Spyridon, she thinks, to save you. I’m not sure when but she’s returning to England,” Celena said, pulling her hand slowly away from her husband. “Unless you stop her.” 

 

XX 

The tickets felt foreign in her hands, despite having held tickets in her hands before. Where she once had five tickets, now there were only three and the thought made tears prick at her eyes again. She sniffed and looked to her children with as big a smile as she could manage. 

“And please make sure you walk them twice a day, they’ve gotten use-” Gerry swiped at his face and Theo patted his little friend’s shoulder.  
“I’ll take good care of them Gerry, I promise,” he said, and the youngest Durrell sniffed. 

“I know you will,” he whispered. 

Theo didn’t release his shoulder and looked at Louisa as she approached. She was surprised to see tears in the biologist’s eyes. This, coupled with Gerry’s very red eyes, made her stop short and she took a shuddering breath. She looked for her other children and spied Leslie and Margo in animated discussion at the other end of the pier. She imagined Leslie asking her to send back gifts from the homeland. Home. What an odd phrase, she thought. Home was almost certainly in Corfu, not Bournemouth. So what was she doing? It was Larry that was the last straw. 

He was sat by the ticket office, on a short pillar, his arms folded, and his head bent down. 

“Cheer up, now you can have all your mad friends around whenever you want,” she said. She was trying to make the situation less painful but when he lifted his head, pain ripped through her. 

“I don’t want my mad friends,” he said, his eyes uncharacteristically blurry. “I want my mother and I want... goddamn it - I want my brother, and I want my sister. As much as I moan endlessly about them, they are part of me and we are a family. We shouldn’t be split by thousands of miles of water. I even want the noisy animals running around the bloody house.” 

“So come with me,” she said, her own tears spilling over. He looked like he was considering it before he shook his head. 

“I can’t. This is my home. And this is yours. It’s Margo’s and it’s certainly Gerry’s. You’re running away because you fell in love with someone you can’t have and it's- it's painful, and cold and lonely. But that's love, life. That's what makes us, us! But you’re tearing this family apart because of it! You’re being a bloody coward!” he snapped, jumping to his feet. She stared at him, mouth falling open. He turned away from her, rubbing his chin. 

“You have no idea Larry!” she said, quietly at first, until she could no longer contain her voice. “You have no idea what it is like to be in so much pain, and not be able to do anything about it!” 

“I do!” he said, whirling to face her. “I do because I feel it now! And I felt it when Father died. You think you’ll fair better in Bournemouth? Remember how we were before we came here? Hmm? Were you happy then?” His words cut through her armour and reached their target, her heart and she looked down, crying into her lap. He dropped to one hip and walked over to her. “Mother, please. You will not be happy in Bournemouth, no happier than you are here, and you will have made everyone unhappy by separating us from those we love. You think Gerry will get over having to leave the only friend he’s ever made? The animals he loves more than he loves us? Margo may think she’ll be happier, but she has no skills, no intelligence, she’ll fail there. Worse than she’s failed here. If you can tell me, look me in the eye and tell me you’d rather go to England, and that you’ll be happier there... well I’ll come with you.” 

She slowly rose her head to look at him, but she couldn’t utter the words he asked. 

“I really bloody hate that you’ve become the voice of reason,” she said and swiped at her eyes. 

He took the tickets from her hand and she let him as he walked away with them, first stopping at the ticket office then stopping to talk to his youngest sibling. She couldn’t watch the moment of elation on the young boy’s face as he received the news and instead chose to focus on the floor, scuffing her shoe in the dirt. 

“LOUISA!” She looked up, eyes wide at the sound of her name. 

She looked around for the source and butterflies burst in her stomach when she saw Spiros running down the steps, following by a panicked Lugaretzia who was desperately pulling back on his jacket. He managed to shake her off twice, once so abruptly Louisa was afraid for a moment that she’d fall down the stone steps. Every person on the port turned around first in Spiros’ direction, and then hers, all with different expressions. She almost wished the ground would swallow her whole. He reached her in just half a dozen large strides, Lugaretzia appearing just moments later, breathing heavily and wiping at the sweat on her brow. 

“I sorry Mrs Durrell – I know you say not for him to know but ... he very persistent,” the old woman said, and Louisa almost laughed. 

“It’s fine Lugaretzia,” she said instead. An awkward silence befell the trio. 

“I go now,” Lugaretzia said with narrowed eyes and it sounded like a question. Louisa nodded tearfully and watched as her housekeeper walked away before she looked at the man who held her heart. She hadn’t realised that he was holding her hands until then. 

“You cannot leave, Louisa,” he said, his eyes sorrowful and pleading.  
“Spiros-” 

“No, I mean- my wife, she talk to me. She told me what you did, my children-” his voice broke and he leaned his forehead against hers. Her chest hurt, and she thought she might die. She gripped his shirt with her free hand to stop herself from falling to the floor. “But she knows now.” 

Louisa frowned. She was almost afraid to ask. 

“Knows what?” 

When his eyes met hers, she recognised the fiery passion that she had once seen in them. 

“Knows that she and I... we’re not meant to be together,” he dropped her hands to cup her face, right there, in front of everyone. When he stroked her brow and her cheek with his thumb, she closed her eyes to prevent the tears falling. She began to sob, unable to stop herself. His mouth moved closer to hers until she could feel his shuddering breath against her lips. “So you can’t leave because... because we have a whole life to live.” 

Her sobs gave way to a sharp, single, barking laugh. 

“I’m afraid you’re a little late. Larry already guilted me into staying,” she said, sniffing. 

His mouth pressed to hers and she snaked her arms around his neck and back, pulling him as close as possible as the couple got lost in one another. Spiros’ left hand tangled in her hair and it seemed they’d never break apart. But, a lack of oxygen forced them to and when she finally opened her eyes, her gaze met her family’s wide glances with a blush. Spiros however, was far from embarrassed. 

“Right - who wants to load the cases into my car, hm?” he bellowed with a grin and Gerry was the first to drag his case up the steps, with the help of Theo. Margo however, held hers out to Leslie who looked at her with disdain before taking it from her. She hugged him and with the smallest of smiles, he gave her a one-armed hug back. 

“Well I’d say you have impeccable timing Spiros...” Larry grinned at the taxi driver, letting his sentence die before he took off after his siblings. Spiros spied the only case left on the port, clearly marked ’Louisa Durrell’ and picked it up effortlessly, his other hand reaching down for hers, which he brought to his mouth. 

“I love you,” he said, between kisses and she felt a warmth flood through her. 

“And I, you,” she said with a smile. “Take me home Spiros.” 

“With pleasure, agápi mou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end. I hope it doesn't come across too rushed (I have had a plan from day one as to where I wanted the story to go so I hope it doesn't feel like I've been winging it).  
> This will by my last Durrell's story, I expect, until the new series as I want to focus on other fandom and original stuff that will consume me no doubt.  
> Thank you all who read and reviewed - particularly my tumblr buddies :)


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